Order through Disorder
by The Placoderm
Summary: Sithis have sent Cicero to Azeroth, free to roam around and live the life he wants. As soon as he goes there, the Nightmother released Cicero from his curse and restored his sanity. No longer the keeper of the Nightmother, his reasons for raising his blade will be all up to him. Contains: cringe, everyone being OOC, minor suggestive themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: In this fanfic, I will be making up Cicero's backstory prior to being an assassin since he doesn't have one.  
I know that Cicero is a beloved character in the elder scrolls community and that his insanity is what makes him likable by fans. To remove it is almost criminal and would take away from his character as a whole. Well, I wanna do just that because I want to speculate what he was like before he went insane and put it here in this story. If you are not okay with his character being changed, and not okay with minor inconsistencies with official E.S. and WoW lore, then you will not find this fanfic enjoyable, but rather laughably bad all throughout.  
I also want to point some elder scrolls and warcraft biases I have before you start reading: Author is pro-alliance and pro-imperial; Author anti-stormcloak and anti-horde.  
As the story progresses, you will cringe a lot; you might cry(in laughter from its corny nature); you might go 'WTF? is this?', if you can forgive the bad writing that is, and give this a go. Believe it or not, some people actually enjoyed this, and hopefully, you will too.**

**Thank you, and enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 1: Cast Away.**

.

.

.

Cicero opened his eyes and saw all black. It's as if his eyes were still closed despite of them being open. He could not feel anything in his body, not the blowing of air nor his own weight; it's as if he's made entirely of nothing. His eyes and head frantically moved looking for any sight of anything that resembles, well, anything that isn't pure darkness.

"Welcome to the void." Said a voice. The voice didn't have an echo and sounded to him like a man was talking to him on arm's length.

"The void? Cicero is in the Void? Who is Cicero talking to?"

The voice chuckled then let out an unworldly sounding laugh in staccato before speaking again. "Your service to the Nightmother have been… satisfactory."

"Indeed! Cicero has gone through so much. Oh, yes! But none…" Cicero started to chuckle himself. "None, none oh none! seemed to stop Cicero from serving the Brotherhood for the glory… of Sithis!"

"That's well and good. But service like that deserves some sort of… reward."

"Who is Cicero talking to? Hmmm?"

The voice chuckled. "You refer to me as Sithis, the old Elnofei call me Padomay but what I am is an essence of change."

Cicero got elated at the thought of getting compensation for his services and. He tried to do a dance but he ended up just flailing his limbs due to the lack of basic physics within the void.

"You look stupid, Cicero. Anyway, your reward is…"

"I wish come back to life and serve the Nightmother again! Yes! That's what I want."

"No. You are not coming back to Skyrim, not even Tamriel."

"So, Cicero is going to Akavir? Aldmeris? Oh, oh, will Cicero go to the land of the old Nords – Atmora? Oh, how exciting, how exciting!" he grinned, the ends of his lips reaching their maximum range of motion.

"Not even… in Mundus." Sithis said.

Cicero's heart sank at the thought of him leaving Tamriel. He couldn't believe it: he just froze in the void saying nothing.

After a few minutes of letting Cicero take it all in, the voice of Sithis spoke again. "Your reward is to go to another plane of existence called Azeroth. Live your life as you see fit. I am setting you free to do whatever it is that you want. Your reasons for raising your blade will be all up to you. Also, you should remember that in Azeroth, there is no Dark Brotherhood."

"Then Cicero will create one! to serve you!"

"Again, you will decide what to do, for I am setting your soul free from the void."

The redhead's brows askew and his mouth stopped smiling.

"But Cicero only desires to serve you here for all of eternity!" he said, floating in the dark void.

"No, I do not need servants, my dear Cicero, as you should have known by now: Your service to the Brotherhood is over and I do not need you anymore."

The redhead let out a sigh.

"Cicero… understands. As you command, oh great one."

"You in your time in Tamriel have embodied chaos and disorder in your own way by of course, taking the lives of people on my name: What you had become was an agent of change for the lives of loved ones of the people you slew."

Cicero just kept floating in the void listening.

"Had you not existed nor did all of those things in your life, order in the weaves of fate of the lives of people you've affected would have been fulfilled. You see - everyone's lives and the fate of everything that exists are inherently predetermined by the being of creation. And what I do is to maintain balance by bringing change."

"Cicero is confused. The last time Cicero listened to philosophy was when Cicero was 16."

"It matters not, Cicero. you will understand soon enough. Just remember this: Change is Order, Change is constant, and Change must happen."

Cicero, looked down on his hands and saw that it was disintegrating, at the same time he was feeling a surge of magical energy being absorbed by his body while slowly fading from the void.

"Oooh, Mighty sithis … that tickles!"

"Now, former keeper of the Nightmother. I wish you well in your future endeavors. Live your new life and bring forth change to the weaves of fate in Azeroth. Cicero… I cast you out!"

Then everything went black.

.

.

.

**To be continued**

**Cicero's character will be butchered at this point on. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Amulet of Mara**

.

.

.

Cicero woke up with an aching neck. He looked around his surroundings and he saw he was inside a recovery room or some sort similar to the healing room at the temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, only it was bigger and more ornate. On a platform opposite to his bed, he saw an Altmer sleeping on his right side, or was it an Altmer in the first place?

Cicero slowly got up and sat down on the marble platform he slept on. He looked closely at the elf who was sleeping and recovering. He observed that he had long ears - unusually long ears for an Altmer from the Summerset Isles. He also saw that he has very long eyebrows that protrude sideways across just like the whiskers of those sabercats he and the listener used to kill in the valleys of Whiterun hold.

Cicero was still wearing his usual apparel: he still had his gloves, boots, and satchel. He put a hand on his head and felt that his hat was missing. Where was his hat?, the jester's hat? he thought. He then looked on the marble platform and saw it was on the floor next to it and guessed it probably fell when he was sleeping. He bent down, took it, tied his long red hair and put on his hat. His weapon!... He then tapped his hips to check if he still had his dagger - the Blade of Woe, given to him by the Listener who saved the dark brotherhood from total annihilation. He felt a hard bulge on his hip as he tapped signifying it was still sheathed on his belt. Cicero breathed a sign of relief as he still had a means of defending himself if ever he had to engage with that sleeping long eared elf or anything that got hostile to him.

As he tried to look for a way out, he heard footsteps and voices from outside of the healing room, it sounded like there are armoured personnel heading inside the hall. He sat down waiting for whoever it might be so he can talk to them to find answers as to why he was here in the first place. Was he kidnapped? was he fatally wounded and carried here to recover?

The footsteps had gotten louder and what he saw was a hooded figure - it was a one of those long eared elves, and this time, it was a woman. She was wearing a blue hood with metal inserts tilted forward that covered her eyes. He noticed the hood had openings for her long pointed ears to be exposed. She had a large longbow with some quivered arrows on her back. He looked down at her voluptuous body which caught his eyes- she wore a revealing blue and gold coloured armour with large pauldrons that showed off her navel, blue and gold greaves and gauntlets with ornate patterns, tight leather pants, and blue boots with heels.

"Why, hello there! you're finally awake." said the woman.

Cicero was in complete shock when the elf pulled her hood back, his jaw dropped as he had just saw the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on! never in his life did he ever see a creature this beautiful: not in Cyrodiil, not in the Summerset Isles, not in Valenwood, not in Morrowind, Highrock, or even Skyrim. The closest that he knew that can compete with her beauty would be a Breton named Alisanne Dupre - The late listener for the Dark Brotherhood in Cyrodiil, a woman he admired so much and had feelings for until she was brutally murdered by her father, Uther Nere. The sight of the elf's blue eyes, pink lips, and beautiful face made his heart pump fast and hard. His mouth was ajar as he just kept looking at her without saying a word.

"My name is Sylvanas Windrunner, ranger general of Silvermoon. Welcome to Quel'thalas! Anyway, I saw you unconscious on the forest when we were about to head home after hunting trolls. I ordered Nathanos to carry you here all the way. The priests were all kind enough to heal you and... oh... I almost forgot!... is this... yours?" Windrunner fished out an amulet from her pocket - It was an Amulet of Mara! the amulet Cicero always wanted to show to Alisanne Dupre if ever she had any feelings for him, an intent never fulfilled but he had always kept in his heart.

It was she and she alone was supposed to gaze at the jewels of Cicero's amulet. He kept it and wore it close to him through all those years even after Alisanne died, no other person have seen him with it, not even his fellow assassins in Skyrim. He always wore it under his shirt and didn't know how it ended up at the hands of this long-eared altmer. Did it fall when he was teleported here somehow? Was it stolen?

In Tamriel, Mara is the Goddess of love, mercy and compassion. When one intends to marry a significant other, one wears an amulet of Mara signifying that he/she is available for marriage and the one who sees it can decide whether to marry the wearer.

"I...I... eh...eh!" he whimpered softly as he acted like a total knobhead having a stoke. Cicero walked slowly and awkwardly towards Sylvanas to retrieve the amulet. He was being overwhelmed by strong emotions brought by painful thoughts of Alisanne together with the intense feeling he got from seeing the beautiful elf's face. His heart and mind couldn't take it and he felt he was going to collapse.

"Are you okay?" Sylvanas asked as she was concerned and creeped out at the same time.

"A...a...alisanne...e...elf... Altmer...with long ears...night...mother..." whispered Cicero as he took his last wobbly step before collapsing. His forehead hit the sharp edge of the marble platform before going face first on the marble flooring of Quel'thalas's healing chamber.

Sylvanas quickly pocketed Cicero's amulet and rushed to his aid.

"Priests! Magisters! anyone! come quickly I need help." screamed the ranger general as the elf saw blood oozing out of Cicero's forehead.

Cicero opened his eyes briefly and could see the blurred image of the ranger general's face and her semi-exposed cleavage. Her hands applying pressure on his head in an attempt to stop the bleeding, her touch was so relaxing and was making him weak. His eyes closed shortly after then... everything went black... again.

.

.

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Nightmare**

.

.

.

Cicero woke up in his bed feeling so strange. He looked around the room and noticed it had some familiar furniture and objects. He then realized He was back in Tamriel in his home in Bruma. Beside his bed he saw his legionnaire training dagger. He looked right and up the wall, and on his wall he saw his imperial bow and quiver, just above was the Imperial Dragon insignia of the Mede Empire.

It was so weird for him that how can he still have these? when long ago he got rid of them after he quit trying to qualify for General Tullius's elite nightblade forces which were to be deployed in covert operations in the Summerset Isles. Despite being so good with sneaky surprise attacks with knives or bows, and use of invisibility, he never passed the last tests to qualify as an elite nightblade - that was he can't infuse an arrow with a paralysis spell and he had a hard time detecting live and undead entities because he never mastered his Alteration magic skills. Enraged that he couldn't make it, he quit the legion and joined the Dark Brotherhood.

Cicero got up and tried to process in his mind what was going on, why was he back in his house in Bruma? Suddenly, he heard voice, a woman's voice.

"Cicero..." a loud whisper echoed through the room. This made him panic. He took his training dagger from his bed and drew out a paralysis spell on his left.

"Who are you! show yourself!" Cicero said angrily.

Then suddenly, the walls on the room started to disintegrate, revealing a dark void outside. Cicero suddenly felt like he couldn't move; he looked down and noticed there were Rose vines coming out from the ground and started to entangle his leg.

"Gaaaaah! by Sithis you will pay for that" Cicero said as the thorns were piercing his skin.

Cicero drew a Transmutation spell on his left hand to try and turn the vines into something less harmful but, alas, he couldn't move to point the spell on the vines. Cicero is trapped, paralyzed, and doomed to die.

"Do not be afraid Cicero. I... am... the nightmother..."

The redhead's eyes widened.

"Mother! Oh, sweet mother! Poor Cicero is happy that finally!... he heard the sweet whisper of... the Nightmother!" Cicero was so elated despite having his entire body pierced with rose thorns. The Nightmother's whisper finally grazed his ears, and that's all that mattered to him.

The Nightmother appeared from the darkness and slowly walked to the entangled Imperial. Cicero could see the Nightmother. Her entire body was completely burned! she still wore the bandages Cicero had placed on her corpse for maintenance. The Nightmother reached for Cicero's jester's hat and removed it.

"My poor Cicero... look at the state of you." she said as she stroked Cicero's long red hair.

"I am fine, Nightmother!... Cicero is completely fine!... but what about you mother? There is no more Keeper!... I must come back! yes! come back! and become the keeper once again!" Cicero screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Dear poor Cicero..." She continued to stroke his hair. "Do not fret my son, Nazir is the New keeper, the Dark Brotherhood is doing just as well as though you're still alive."

"Cicero is pleased to know." he said and smiled.

Cicero's elated feeling turned into sorrow when familiar faces stated to appear from the void behind the Nightmother. They were walking towards Cicero. He saw Alisanne Dupre, Astrid, Rasha, and lastly, the Jester. All of them did not look alive at all, they all retained the fatal wounds they took before dying.  
All of them stopped walking as they were just a few steps behind the Nightmother. Cicero could see them closer, he could only imagine how painful their deaths might have been judging from their wounds. The Nightmother spoke again still stroking Cicero's hair.

"My poor Cicero. You have suffered through so much just to protect me and the Dark Brotherhood. For that I will end your suffering forever... **I WILL REMOVE THE CURSE OF THE JESTER**, and you will be free. From now on, you will once again enjoy... peace."

"But mother..." Cicero protested.

"Hush, my child" she said.

The vines started to make their way on Cicero's lips and wrapped their spiked stems around his mouth to the back of his neck. Cicero could no longer speak. The Nightmother held Cicero's face with both hands, she leaned closer and closer, then kissed Cicero on his forehead. She then breathed in slowly removing the Jester's curse she gave to Cicero that comforted him from loneliness for years.

Then Cicero looked at the Jester behind the Nightmother, the wound in his throat disappeared. He smiled at him, bowed down, turned his back and disappeared from the void. The Nightmother spoke again.

"My poor Cicero... forgive Rasha"

Cicero looked at Rasha, his neck wound disappeared, the cat looked at him, smiled then he disintegrated out of sight.

"Forgive... Astrid."

He saw Astrid's burned skin turning back into yellowish brown, her entire body reverting back into her alive state. Astrid walked forward and bowed her head as he approached him. "I...I should have known better, Cicero. I have violated every single one of the 5 tenets of the Brotherhood." She then looked at him with teary eyes before disintegrating into nothingness.

"Forgive... Alisanne."

Cicero saw Alisanne's burned skin turned back into yellowish white, her long red locks caressed her beautiful face. Alisanne walked towards Cicero and spoke to him. "I'm sorry Cicero... I... I didn't know.." as Alisanne was about to touch him, she slowly disintegrated. Cicero could see the pain in her eyes as she shed tears before fading.

"And lastly ,my son. Please forgive... yourself." The Nightmother withdrew her burnt hand from his face, turned around and walked towards the dark void. This was the the last time Cicero will ever hear the whisper of the Nightmother.

Cicero started to sob uncontrollably as he disintegrated from the void.

.

.

Cicero woke up from his nightmare.

"Gaaaah!" Cicero screamed and quickly sat up. It was all a dream, or was it? he didn't know, either way, he was feeling weird, it was like he wasn't right in the head. He also noticed his voice got deeper than usual.

An elven priest sitting on a desk noticed him.

"Bad dream?" said the elf, he chuckled as he closed a spell tome he was reading.

The elf stood up, took a cup and magically conjured up some water. "What were you dreaming about?" he said as he walked towards Cicero offering him the cup. "Here."

"Thank you." Said Cicero then greedily drank. He noticed that the water from the cup never seemed to run out. After he was refreshed, he gave back the still-full cup to the priest.

He noticed he was back in the healing room in Quel'thalas. He must have got knocked out when he fainted upon seeing his Amulet of Mara being held by the elven archer named Sylvanas Windrunner.

"Might I ask. Where am I, and how did I get here?" Cicero asked the priest.

"Well ,my friend. You're in the Halls of Recovery in Quel'thalas." said the priest as he walked back to his desk. "Our ranger general Sylvanas Windrunner reported seeing you lying down unconscious not far from a troll base-camp. The official reports say that you were allegedly attacked by trolls and was left for dead. Ranger Nathanos Marris was ordered by lady Windrunner to carry you here." The elven priest sat down and resumed his reading. "The problem with that report was when you were taken in and I examined you, your injuries did not resemble any signs of possible attacks from trolls, that was before you hit your head falling down, of course. "

Cicero put his right hand on his forehead and he could feel a scar.

"Your injuries looked to be have come from a nasty fall. But not to worry, I already healed you... twice. You can thank the Sunwell for that." said the long eared elf.

"Sunwell?... anyway... where can I find Lady Sylvanas Windrunner?" Cicero got up, tapped on his hips to make sure he still had the Blade of Woe; he checked if he had his hat, then tapped his satchel to make sure he still had some gold.

"Oh, tough luck, weary human. She already left with her rangers. Our king, Anasterian Sunstrider, sent her to aid your Prince, Arthas Menethil's investigation on a supposed plague outbreak in Andorhal."

"Who? Prince Arthis Men-and-tail?... what now?" Cicero was confused who those people were.

"Oh, you're not from Lordaeron, weary human?" said the elf surprised he didn't know who prince Arthas was. "Where are you from then, Stormwind? Gilneas?"

"Cyrodiil, i'm from Cyrodiil... anyway..." Cicero opened his satchel, took out 1 gold Septim and placed it on the priest's desk "Here's for your help. Once again thank you, brother elf." He said then curtsied at the long eared elf before heading outside.

The elf watched at the crazily dressed man walk out the hall. He looked down at the gold coin Cicero placed on his desk and studied it: the coin contained engravings of a man's head and below the head was a name that read "Tiber Septim" The elf was so confused as to where this strange man had come from. And there is no such person in Azeroth who is named Tiber Septim and he was almost 100 years old, unless, he's from another world. Maybe he's one of the beings that slipped out of the dark portal that was opened during the 2nd war that connected Outland and Azeroth, he thought.

.

.

**To be continued.**

**Cicero will now be different from the Bethesda character at this point. For the next chapters, he will be treated as an original character with a made up lore-friendly backstory and a completely different attitude from the one you see in-game.  
If you're okay with that and can forgive the atrocious writing, carry on. It's quite an adventure.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Blade in the Dark**

.

.

The cool evening breeze caressed Cicero's face as he walked out from the recovery halls of Quel'Thalas. He breathed in and could smell the scent of pine. Standing at the balcony, he could see the city in all its glory. Quel'Thalas was massive, the towers were just as tall as the ones in Cyrodiil, at least in the capital city. Windows from houses and buildings were glowing from the candles within, shop-keepers closed their stalls and returned to their homes, the scent of cooking food emanated from the chimneys of houses as the long-eared elves prepared for dinner: Quel'thalas was just as lively as the Imperial city at home.

Cicero marveled at the elven architecture of the long-eared elves as he liked to refer to them. "Wow, this place is beautiful… I wonder where do they put their garbage?"

A raven suddenly landed on the floor in front of him. Cicero looked at it.

"Why hello, little bird." Cicero drew out his paralysis spell.

"No please!" said the raven.

"You… you... can talk?" Cicero was surprised at the sight. He withdrew his spell.

The raven slowly turned into a bearded mage human of some sort. He wore a hooded robe with ornate pauldrons on his shoulders. He held a staff or scepter that had a carving of a bird's body on its end.

"You… the outsider! your presence have clouded my visions." said the strange man.

"Your visions? but your eyes look to be just fine to me... look there's a priest inside, you should go talk to him about that, I bet he can fix you right ..."

"No! listen. I am Medivh, guardian of Tirisfal. You must seek out a man named Artha ..."

"and kill him?" Cicero got excited.

"No! let me finish, you... stupid… I mean... Before your presence disrupted my visions of the prophecy, I could see all the bad things that can unfold. Every single vision showed the destruction of these lands, and yes, that includes the very floors you're standing on..." Medivh looked at Cicero distracted by a Dragonhawk rider that just flew by.

"What now?... oh… Sorry, I wasn't listening, I just saw a massive bird with an elf riding it... I wonder if I could…" Cicero was silenced at the sight of the man acting all hysterical.

"Oh, my... the bringer of change... humanity's last hope... is an Idiot!" Medivh turned his back, collapsed and slumped over on the wall "the bringer of change" he started to breathe heavily "is an Idiot... humanity is lost... lost...lost!"

Cicero heard him say "_Bringer of change_" he could recall what Sithis said to him before casting him out from Nirn: "_Bring forth change in the weaves of fate in Azeroth_". Cicero suddenly got reminded of his ultimate goal. But in what way? Sithis said he must live life in Azeroth the way he wants. Was that a part of it all?

Cicero had once again become an embodiment of chaos just as he was in Tamriel, but this time, not just to some selected individuals, but the entire world. It looked like his mere presence had disrupted the visions of the prophet Medivh that tell an imminent doom. If his presence was having an effect on something big that was about to happen, he must take this man seriously... and he did.

Cicero went to Medivh and tapped him. "I'm sorry for acting like a knob, I know what you mean... I am the man you're looking for. I am Cicero of Cyrodiil, Champion of Sithis, former keeper of the Nighmother, former Legionnaire of the Empire of Tamriel."

Medivh smiled and said "The outsider... in the wrong place... at the right time, it is he who makes all the difference in the world." Medivh stood up, "The last clear Vision I saw was the sight of a blonde-haired man wielding a runeblade. His name is Arthas Menethil, prince of Lordaeron."

"I just heard that name, the elven priest just told me. Lady Sylvanas Windrunner and her rangers are going to aid him in his so-called investigation of some… plague" Cicero said recalling the elven priest.

"Then it has started... I suggest you seek lady Windrunner at once and aid her rangers. They are heading to the granaries of Andorhal south of here. If you're quick enough, you might catch their encampment on your way there because they might be resting for the night." Medivh pointed beyond the Elven Gate. "Do you know the way?"

"Yes." Cicero had just cast _Clairvoyance_, a novice level Illusion spell which showed him the path for his current objective. After casting, he quickly jumped and climbed down the balcony of the recovery halls not even bothering to take the stairs. Medivh was amazed how agile the man was.

"I hope you make the right decisions, Cicero; lives are counting on you." The prophet said as he watched the man run out into the forests.

Cicero before joining the Dark Brotherhood, was a Nightblade trainee in the legion - he excelled in freerunning, archery, sneak, light armour, and one-handed weaponry. He knew some spells, but in his time in the Brotherhood, he rarely used any of them.

He gained expert level in Alteration magic which enabled him to cast _Paralysis_ – for combat, _Waterwalking_ – for traversing water, _Transmutation_ – for turning objects into sweetrolls, _Oakflesh_ and _Stoneflesh_ for armour, _Magelight_ – for luminating and for keeping warm, and _Detect life/dead_ – for detecting living or undead entities and for knowing whether they are hostile or not.  
He was only an apprentice level in Illusion which enabled him to know _Clairvoyance_ – for not getting lost in places, and _Chameleon_ – for invisibility.  
Restoration magic was his least proficient at, he can only cast minor healing spells on himself and on targets.

.

.

"How far are we?" Sylvanas said to Nathanos.

"At least 1 day of trekking before we can reach Arthas and Lady Proudmoore's forces if we keep moving like this. Come on! We can't rest for the night. We can rendezvous with Lordaeron and Dalaran's forces in the morning if we keep moving." He replied angrily.

"It's night time, Ranger Marris! and we need to be careful of possible troll attacks or even ogres or wendigoes!" Sylvanas said.

"Then we can just kill them… no problem."

"We have 6 rangers and 3 mages. All of whom are among the finest in Quel'Thalas, but even with that we can still be overwhelmed by their numbers. Listen here, Nathanos. I am a hundred years older than you; I've been in the 2nd war and you weren't… Now go get some rest, that's an order." Sylvanas said to her 2nd in command.

"Yes, Ma'am General." Nathanos said as he stood up from the firepit and headed for his tent.

Sylvanas was left to herself. She cursed this entire operation because she won't be in Quel'Thalas to oversee the city's security. Anestarian Sunstrider appointed his son Kael'Thas Sunstrider to take charge of her duties while she was gone.

She never liked Kael'Thas even if he's an exceptionally good mage, mainly because of his juvenile behavior despite being 500 years old. He also tried to get his way with her during King Anestarian's 3000th birthday feast by spiking her drink with a charm spell. Luckily it was Nathanos who drank it by mistake and not her. It resulted in something…Interesting – a bad night to remember. One more thing she hated about him was the fact that he was still "studying" in Mage school in Dalaran when she knew he just wanted to show off his magical prowess to his classmates and woo all the girls and have his way with them.

Eventually she got drowsy from all the thinking and dozed off.

Her 2-hour nap had been interrupted when her ears detected what sounded like ogres or wendigos grunting at a distance, sounds of metal clashing, followed by more grunts. They were faint sounds but her ears could detect them at long distances.

She stood up, readied her bow and arrow and called for her men to arms.

"Rangers! Ready yourselves, we got hostiles!"

Nathanos and the rangers awoke and armed themselves as quickly as they can, the mages did the same, readying their staffs. Sylvanas extinguished the fire and she signaled her men to follow her into the dense vegetation.

They ran towards the source of the sound, Sylvanas leading them still being careful because it was dark. She could hear the sounds getting louder and louder as they got closer and closer – it sounded like there was a skirmish going on. When they got close enough, there was a loud grunt followed by a loud thud… then silence followed.

"Halt! Mages, give me a torch." Sylvanas said.

One elven mage took a branch from the ground and lit it on fire with his staff, then handed it over to Sylvanas. When they went further, they came across a brutal site: there were 2 ogres and a troll lying on the ground, the troll had his throat cut and the 2 ogres had lacerations all over their bodies, one had a cut on his leg so deep, the white tendons were exposed.

"What could have done this?" Nathanos asked Sylvanas.

"I don't know, but we must kill it, whatever it may be." Sylvanas said.

The rangers readied their arrows ready to kill whatever is going to jump out. Suddenly, they heard a man's voice.

"I pose no harm, please, let me come out and we can talk." The man said.

"Who are you! show yourself!" Nathanos screamed at the darkness.

The man Casted a spell and then a small ball of light went up to his head. Sylvanas and Nathanos were shocked at what they saw when they could make out the man's face – It was that strange man that they rescued and carried to the recovery halls of Quel'Thalas. He was wearing a strange looking red hat, black and red clothes and black gloves and boots. He was up the tree eating bread.

"It's you! Get down from there at once! Why are you here? State your business." Nathanos said.

"I thought you were at Quel'Thalas recovering?" Sylvanas said to the man.

Cicero threw his bread away, and jumped down the tree. The _candlelight_ spell above his head illuminated his features as well as the vicinity. Cicero put both of his hands up and slowly approached the party.

"Please, I mean no harm, sheathe your weapons. These creatures were getting in the way so I dispatched them all. I went all the way here to find you, Lady Windrunner… to… uhm... retrieve my amulet." Cicero said eyeing on Sylvanas.

"Oh… I'm so sorry, you mean this one?" Sylvanas took out the Amulet of Mara from her pocket. "I'm sorry, I forgot I had it in my pocket all along. When you collapsed, after helping you, I was called by the King's guards for an emergency meeting, after which we were sent at once and I didn't have a chance to give it back." Sylvanas said handing the Amulet to Cicero.

"It's okay m'lady" Cicero took the Amulet, looked at Sylvanas and smiled.

"So… you came all the way from the city to here... just to for a necklace?" Nathanos said to Cicero.

"It's precious to me; I couldn't live without it." He replied.

"So… I guess you got what you came here for… so what now, you're gonna head home?" Sylvanas asked Cicero.

"I want to help you, Lady Windrunner, in your… uhm... campaign."

Nathanos and Sylvanas looked at the carnage Cicero had done to those 3 beasts. He just killed 2 ogres and a troll just by himself and he is volunteering himself to join her infantry.

Nathanos and Sylvanas looked at each other, Nathanos glaced at Cicero before looking back at his General… he nodded his head. They both looked at Cicero who was waiting for an approval. They can see his face being lit by the small light above his head.

"Okay, you may join us. But you will do what we say and when we say, got it?" Sylvanas said reminding Cicero that she was to lead the party.

Cicero knelt down, took out the Blade of Woe, put its point on the ground, held the pommel with both of his hands and bowed his head.

"I, Cicero am at your service, lady Sylvanas Windrunner." Cicero said before standing up. He took Sylvanas's left hand, bowed his head, and kissed it.

"It's our custom: we do it as a sign of respect for power and authority." Cicero said to the elf.

Sylvanas smiled awkwardly as her hand was let go. "Thanks… I guess."

Nathanos could see a faint red blush on Sylvanas's face.

.

.

**To be continued.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Break of Dawn**

.

.

"Alright, Cicero, I hope you had a good sleep because we need to get moving." Sylvanas said.

"Oh, pardon me ma'am general but I thought you told us to rest for the night?" Nathanos jumped in.

"Change of plans. The sooner we meet Prince Arthas and Jaina's forces, the sooner we'll get this whole Plague thing over with so we can return to Quel'Thalas and relieve that goon Kael'Thas from messing up my duties. We can arrive at King's Road in the morning then we can meet Arthas there. Now, all of you get some torches and let's move!" Sylvanas said before starting to lead the way.

"You, do you mind carrying my bag? I have a sore back." Nathanos said before he handed Cicero his bag. "Be careful though, it's full of Health and Mana potions, so don't drop it. I didn't drop you when I hauled your unconscious ass all the way to Quel'Thalas so please be careful with those."

"So, you're the one who carried me there? Thank you for saving my life, mister…"

"Nathanos, Nathanos Marris. Ranger Lord of Quel'Thalas." Nathanos extended his hand for a handshake.

"Cicero, my name is Cicero. Pleased to meet you Ranger Marris." the two shook their hands.

When Nathanos turned his back and started walking, Cicero noticed he did not have long pointed ears protruding through his hood. "Wait, Ranger Nathanos, you're not an elf?"

Nathanos stopped and turned to face Cicero.

"Yes, I'm a Human. But my heart is elvish because I spent most of my life with the Elves."

"I see."

"Yes, now, let's get moving before Lady Sylvanas gets mad."

.

.

The sounds of chanticleers(roosters) echoed around the grain farms of King's Road when dawn finally broke. They were marching for 7 hours straight. Their legs ached from walking and the weapons they carried started to feel heavy when they got more and more tired, especially Nathanos, considering yesterday he carried Cicero from a troll base-camp to Quel'Thalas. Yesterday's toil was now having an effect on his body.

"General…" Nathanos was panting "Can we please rest for a bit? My legs are aching and my back hurts." he said to Sylvanas.

"Oh Please! quit your bellyaching ranger, I'm wearing heels and walked the same distance as you, and you don't see me complaining about sore feet, am I?" Sylvanas said as she continued to walk behind Nathanos.

"Last time I checked, you weren't the one who carried a 200-pound man for 2 miles yesterday." Nathanos continued to voice his discomfort.

"Shut up and move." Sylvanas replied.

Cicero was at the far end of the line, he was feeling a bit tired but not as tired as the rangers, mainly because he was used to that sort of task and had developed muscle endurance from it. He and the Listener of Skyrim's Dark Brotherhood sanctuary used to go on assassinations and quests that took days and even weeks. Sometimes the Listener ordered Cicero to carry shields, multiple wheels of goat cheese, heavy daedric armour, 2 handed greatswords, and all other stuff. He carried them for miles on end from the snowy tundra of Dawnstar to the rocky mountains of Markarth. He carried the Listener's burdens and never complained one bit. But that was in Nirn, in Tamriel, this is Azeroth- there's no more Listener, and no more Dark Brotherhood.

An hour later, the morning sun shined bright around King's Road. Cicero and the Rangers finally reached the granary. They decided to rest on a field full of hay. The exhausted Nathanos lied down on a haystack and slept while the other rangers and the mages took their own resting spots and ate breakfast. Cicero gently put down the ranger's supply of healing potions on a heap of straw.

"Alright rangers, we rest here and wait for Prince Arthas and Lady Proudmoore to arrive down the road, this is better than rendezvousing with them at the granaries of Andorhal. Go rest while I roam around the area." Sylvanas said before heading towards an old wooden farmhouse.

Cicero was feeling out-of-place with the other rangers and the mages, he didn't know anyone from this expedition team aside from Sylvanas and Nathanos. He was feeling thirsty from all the needed to share supplies with the rangers if he wishes to get sustenance because he didn't have any. He saw a mage conjuring water into a cup and approached him.

"Hello friend, can I have some water please?" Cicero said politely.

"Of course, weary human." The elven mage gave Cicero a cup and conjured water on it. "There."

"Thank you, brother Elf." Cicero drank from the cup. When he was done, he gave the cup back.

Cicero drew his _transmutation _spell on both hands, he bent down on the ground, took a heap of hay, and magically turned it into a large Sweetroll – Tamriel's finest and most popular pastry. He took the sweetroll and offered it to the elven mage who just gave him water.

"Here. This is for you, it's called a sweetroll." He said offering the large pastry.

"How did you?... but that was hay on the ground a while ago… ah… You're a mage too I see." The elf said before accepting the sweetroll. "Where did you learn to do that human, in Dalaran?"

"y…yeah." Cicero said nervously. "Anyway, thank you brother elf."

"No, thank you." The elf said as he was cutting the sweetroll with his knife. After which, he was stuffing his mouth.

"Did you see where General Windrunner went?" Cicero asked.

"She went that way towards that farmhouse" The elf said mumbly with a full mouth. His fingers pointed at an old looking wooden house.

"Thanks." Cicero said before leaving the rangers to find the Ranger General.

.

.

Cicero had a feeling that something was wrong with the farm, the farm looked deserted. If this was a working farm, then farmers should be around to tend with their crops and livestock, but there were none, unless these were lazy farmers that woke up late and worked at noon. He continued to walk towards the wooden farmhouse, when he went further, he could no longer hear the chattering of the rangers resting in the fields.

"Hello, is anyone here?" he shouted as he walked hoping to get a response from the nearby residents.

Complete silence followed. He was now feeling uneasy as he continued to walk.

When Cicero got to the farmhouse he called out once more.

"Hello, is anyone here? General Windrunner, are you inside?"

Still silence. Cicero got fed up, he wanted to know if there were people in the vicinity so he drew out another one of his alteration spells: _Detect Life_. He always had a hard time using this spell mainly because he hadn't mastered it, and he usually runs out of magicka after 5 seconds of casting continuously.

With his left hand he activated the spell for a good 2 seconds, and what he saw was a blue figure through the walls of the ground floor of the house, it was probably Sylvanas since blue meant non hostile. He waited for his magicka to regenerate and casted the spell again for 2 seconds. He turned his head so he could see around his vicinity but could see no more blue or red figures. That meant only Sylvanas was inside the house and no other people nor animals were around the surrounding area.

Cicero pulled the ajar door then walked inside the house. The house had a slight smell of rot, inside, he noticed that some furniture got tipped over.

"Lady Windrunner, are you in here?" Cicero shouted as he went inside.

"Yeah. Come here quick, look at this." Sylvanas said.

Cicero went further inside the house and found Sylvanas in the dining area of the house, she was crouched over on the floor studying what looked to be a bowl with food on it.

"Cicero, look at this, the cereal in this bowl, it's all green." She sniffed at it "Geurgh! And smells like rotten flesh." She dropped the bowl and stood up.

Cicero went over to Sylvanas and eyed on her.

"Lady Sylvanas… there's something wrong with this place, there are no people around besides us and the rangers. I looked for any signs of human activity but couldn't find any."

"Could it be that… the plague… but we're in King's Road, the plague is rumored to be in…" her sentence was cut when they heard a thud from upstairs.

"Shush!" Cicero whispered as he drew out another of his Detect spells, this time it was _Detect Dead_.

He slowly raised his left hand and activated the spell for about 3 seconds. What he saw was a terrifying sight: 4 red figures were upstairs, 5 were detected on the basement, and plenty more were detected outside behind Sylvanas.

Cicero quickly unsheathed his dagger.

"What's wrong?" Sylvanas asked.

"Ready yourself, we got company."

As Sylvanas was about to ready some arrows from her quiver, an undead ghoul suddenly broke the window from outside and started to charge at the elf. Cicero quickly reacted and hit the ghoul with a blast of paralysis magic with his left hand - The ghoul dropped on the ground face-first on the wooden floor. The elf drew her bow and dispatched the creature with an arrow to the head.

"What was that?" Sylvanas asked.

"More are coming." he said as he readied the _Blade of Woe._

They heard loud moaning and grunts from upstairs and outside.

"Behind you!" Sylvanas shouted.

Cicero turned his back and could see what could have been the owners of the house, 4 undeads - The father, the mother, and 2 young women. They were still wearing their work clothes, their faces were all bloodied, and their lips were missing revealing their long sharp teeth. He quickly cast his _Oakflesh_ spell and then he charged at them. The Blade of Woe turned red with every stab and chop. The undead family of the house were permanently dead as Cicero chopped their heads off with his dagger.

"Let's get out of here!" Sylvanas said before they stormed out of the farmhouse running.

When they got out, they heard more grunting coming from inside the house, more undead have broken through the window, and the ones from the basement were coming out to pursue them. When they were at a safe distance, Sylvanas turned her back, took 3 arrows from her quiver, she drew, and aimed at the charging undead, she released her arrows and struck 3 ghouls dead.

"Cicero, engage with them head on, I'll cover you."

Cicero cast his oakflesh spell again.

"With pleasure Ma'am." he said before running towards the approaching undead.

Cicero killed the closest undead with his dagger by severing its spine. He continued to kill more undead with his dagger as he advanced towards them. The oakflesh spell was doing him good: it was like he was wearing light Legionnaire armour. After all, he wasn't a stranger to engaging with undead. Cicero and the Listener used to kill scores of Draugrs, Draugr Deathlords, and Dragon Priests in the ancient Nordic catacombs of Skyrim.

As Cicero was cutting down scores of undead with his blade, Sylvanas was shooting down more undead coming from the house. She took out the creatures that Cicero failed to dispatch or had bypassed him.

After some time of fighting, the Rangers finally arrived to help out Sylvanas and Cicero.

"Where were you guys?" Sylvanas said as she killed a ghoul with her arrow.

"We are sorry Madam General." Nathanos drew his arrow and killed a ghoul. "We didn't know you were in trouble until we heard loud grunting sounds and screaming." he said before he killed another with his bow.

The 6 rangers rained volleys of arrows towards the the undead coming out of the house. The 3 elven mages killed the undead with fire balls coming from their staffs.

"Cicero, that's enough, we'll take it from here." Nathanos said to Cicero who was having fun enjoying the severing of heads of those vile creatures.

.

.

After some time, the fighting had come to a halt as all of the remaining pursuing undead were killed by the rangers and the mages.

"Mages, burn the corpses. We need to make sure those things don't get up again." Sylvanas ordered.

"Burn the house too, there must be more of them there." Nathanos said to the mages.

They gathered up the corpses of the undead residents and piled them, after doing so, the mages burned them with their staffs. They then proceeded to light the house on fire.

"So that's taken care of." Sylvanas said to Nathanos as they watched the mages do their work.

"Ma'am General, do you think that Cicero fella can be a good addition to our rangers?" Nathanos asked his superior then glanced at Cicero who was sitting on a heap of straw balancing his dagger on the tip of his index finger.

"I don't know." Sylvanas looked at Cicero playing with his dagger. "I haven't seen him shoot a bow. He is extremely good with his dagger, i'll give him that, but still..."

Sylvanas shifted her view down the road when she heard galloping horses and sounds of armor clanking. She stood up. "Look, it's them - it's Prince Arthas and his men." Nathanos looked down the road and confirmed what the general just saw.  
The flag of the Alliance waved mightily on the backs of the Knights as Prince Arthas and Archmage Jaina Proudmoore along with the forces of Lordaeron and Dalaran marched along King's Road towards the granaries.

.

.

**To be Continued.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Sweetroll and Chill.**

.

.

.

Prince Arthas Menethil and Arch-mage Jaina Proudmoore rode on horseback side by side as they approached the besieged farm. Arthas was a long-haired blonde green eyed human wearing ornate steel plate armour. It was decorated with the heraldries of Lordaeron. His monastic scapular bared the insignia of the Silver Hand and his cape showed the coat of arms of the Alliance. He was carrying a holy maul that had a large head.

Jaina Proudmoore was a human mage. She wore a cape that bared the coat of arms of the kingdom of Dalaran, she wore a revealing top that showed off her stomach, had decorated pauldrons on each side of her shoulder and she wore a white skirt tapered up to her waist. She was carrying a long staff with a large crystal on the end.

Prince Arthas and Lady Proudmoore were on the front and approached the rangers who were resting on the haystacks of the burning farm. Sylvanas, Nathanos and the rangers stood up and walked towards Arthas and tried to explain what happened recently.

"Greetings Prince Arthas, King Anasterian Sunstrider have sent us to aid you in your investigation of the plague, we are…" Sylvanas was cut off at the sight of the Dwarven Riflemen and Human archers pointing their weapons at them. Sylvanas could see the prince's armour splattered with blood which probably meant he had just been into a skirmish lately. He unmounted from his horse, drew out his maul and approached the rangers.

"By aid you mean murder my people and burn their homes?" Arthas said threateningly. "Falric, Marwyn, seize them!" he said as he commanded 2 heavily armoured knights to take the 2 rangers. Falric drew out his sword and approached the elf while Marwyn pursued Nathanos

"Come with me, miss. Nice and slow." Falric said, the point of his sword was dangerously close to the elf's stomach.

"Arthas, what are you doing?" Jaina shouted.

The commotion down the road had caught Cicero's attention as he stopped what he was doing and checked to see what's going on: Sylvanas was being held by a heavily armoured Knight and Nathanos was being tackled on the ground by a group of armoured men. The rangers were raising their hands as the human army raised their weapons at them. Cicero saw Sylvanas and Nathanos in distress so he had to help them, he then drew out his dagger and turned himself invisible.

"Arthas, have you gone mad? We were just trying to help, we had to kill them because they have turned into vile creatures!" Sylvanas screamed at them while she struggled.

"The only vile creatures here are you, betrayers of the light!" Arthas replied.

As Arthas was going to order the rangers to be bound, he suddenly heard Jaina gasp.

Arthas looked frantically for her and when he did, he saw Jaina in distress- struggling and was being held at knifepoint by a man wearing black and red clothes. His left arm was choking Jaina on the neck and his right hand held a reddish black dagger raised just above her chest ready to stab.

"Let them go… please…they were just trying to help" Cicero said as he raised his dagger at her heart. "please… hear us out, it doesn't have to come to this."

.

.

.

"We are very sorry Miss Windrunner and Mister Marris. It's just that I haven't been stable after encountering the undead myself when we arrived at King's road. My people, dead… It just struck me emotionally, please… forgive me." Arthas, the future king of Lordaeron – heir to the throne of King Terenas, was kneeling before the rangers asking for their forgiveness.

"Alright, prince Arthas, we forgive you, just be more careful next time." Sylvanas said eyeing on the teary green eyes of the future king of Lordaeron.

"Will you be still helping us? we are in dire need of soldiers after some of ours got killed on our way." Arthas looked up at the elf.

"Of course, King Anasterian had ordered us to do so, we wouldn't violate his majesty's orders. Besides, the plague is just as big as a threat to our city as it is in yours." Sylvanas said as she gestured the blonde-haired man to stand up.

"Thank you, mighty warriors of Quel'Thalas. Light give you strength." He said to the rangers.

.

.

Cicero was watching the Lordaeron Knights examine the undead corpses he and the rangers dispatched and set on fire. One of Arthas's soldiers wept loudly at one of the corpses on the pile as he recognized it was someone dear to him.

"Dear sister, oh my dear sister…what happened to you?" the soldier cried as he spoke "You're still beautiful, sis… may the light give your soul peace." He said crouched down on her zombified corpse stroking her hair.

Cicero's heart sank at the sight of this. He turned his back as he didn't want to see any of it anymore.

He saw Jaina Proudmoore sitting on a hay pile all by herself eating an apple. He noticed she had red bruises on her neck which probably came from him almost choking her when he threatened to stab her a while ago. She also had cuts on her arm which probably have come from engaging into skirmishes prior to arriving at the granary. Cicero slowly approached the lone mage.

"Hello, friend, are you feeling alright?" Cicero said in a friendly tone.

She gasped at the sight of Cicero, she quickly threw the apple at him to keep him at bay. The apple hit his chest before landing on the ground.

"It's you, please… no more, leave me alone." She said as she was backing away.

"My lady, I just wanted to apologize." Cicero said to her as he took of his hat. "Oh, it seems like you have cuts on you. Here, let me fix that." he drew a minor healing spell on both hands and pointed them at the frightened woman who was shielding herself with her arms. He cast the spell on her and saw that the bruises from her wrists and neck had faded.

"W…what just happened, my wounds… you healed them." Jaina said as she was checking on her arms.

"Once again, I just wanted to say sorry for what I did a while ago…for you know, threatening to kill you." Cicero said.

"Okay, apology accepted. And… thanks for healing me." She said.

"No, I should be the one thanking you for your forgiveness." he replied.

"Hey, I think you dropped this." Cicero picked up the apple Jaina just threw at him. He observed it was a wrinkled apple which meant the military rations of Lordaeron were getting bad. He suddenly was feeling pity for her and Arthas's soldiers.

"No, nevermind, it's all dirty now." Jaina said.

Cicero all of the sudden casted his transmutation spell on the apple and turned it into a large sweetroll.

"Here, it's called a sweetroll, the finest snack in all of Tamriel." He said as he offered it to her.

"Thanks." She said as she accepted the sweetroll. "wait… this isn't made from the grains from the infected granaries, right?" she said as she was hesitant to eat it.

"No, it's not, I can assure you that it's safe." He said as he bent down, took a handful of hay and turned it into a sweetroll for himself and took a bite. "see…" he said while he was chewing. "It's good, no plague here."

Jaina chuckled and smiled at him. "By the way, I'm Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage and student at Dalaran." She said then extended her hand to Cicero and shook hands.

"I'm Cicero, Cicero of Cyrodiil." He said, then sat beside her.

"Where's Cyrodiil?" she asked him "Also, where did you learn to cast magic like that? I've read so much books at the libraries in Dalaran but I've never seen anything that involved turning random objects into food, only turning people into sheep is what I know of."

"Well, you might not believe this but I'm not from here, as in, not from this world." He said then took a bite at his sweetroll.

"So, you're a Draenei from Outland? Were you one of those who slipped out of the Dark Portal?" she said then took a bite at her sweetroll.

Cicero chuckled. "No, my Lady, I have no idea about those so called Draeneis or Dark Portals and such. Cyrodiil is a province in Tamriel in the world of Nirn." Cicero looked at the sky. "Nirn is in another universe, far from where we're at right now." He continued to eat his sweetroll.

"Fascinating, what was it like, your home?" Jaina asked.

"Beautiful."

"Tell me more."

.

.

While Jaina and Cicero were busy chatting about how life is in Tamriel, meanwhile, Arthas, Sylvanas, and Nathanos were inspecting the grain silos of the farm. Each one of the storage silos seemed to be normal until they came across one that had flies buzzing over it. Arthas approached the silo and with his holy maul, Light's Vengeance, he struck the lower cylindrical part of the silo making an orifice at the area of impact. The grains from the silo started to come out of the orifice.

"By Elune's nipples, that reeks! How could those townsfolk possibly endure stomaching that." Sylvanas said, covering her nose.

"What? I don't smell anything. Arthas said.

"Me too." Nathanos followed.

"Why? I can smell it, it reeks of rot, and the grains, they look all green."

"But they all look golden brown to me. How could you possibly…" Arthas was confused.

"Maybe… My highborn blood. Could it be that the plague is only invisible and odorless to humans?" Sylvanas said.

"Since you are the only Thalassian here, and you were the only one among us who could sense it, then probably yes." Arthas looked worried. "We must go to Andorhal as soon as possible! I'll go get my men ready."

As the three turned towards the direction their garrisoned men, they saw a woman who looked to be in her late 20's who was limping towards them, her eyes oozed blood down her face, and her skin had been falling off. She was holding her stomach with both hands trying to keep her entrails from falling off the ground. Sylvanas puked involuntarily at the sight of this.

As the woman continued to walk, she vomited red liquid on the ground. After doing so she began to speak in a raspy voice.

"Please… please kill me. Prince Arthas, end my suffering, don't let me turn into one of them." The woman said.

"No, I will help you live, I cannot bear the guilt of killing my own people." Arthas casted holy light on the woman but was surprised that the spell did not heal her, but set her on fire.

"Light preserve us! What have I done?" Arthas said as he watched the woman squirm who just got immolated by the holy light. Her entrails dropped on the ground then she stepped on them accidentally as she moved around. The contents of her entrails came out and Sylvanas saw what came out was partially digested cereal.

Sylvanas puked again upon seeing the gruesome sight.

Nathanos had seen enough. He drew his bow and shot the burning woman on the head, ending her suffering.

"Thank…you…" the woman whispered as she dropped on the ground and finally succumbed.

Nathanos went over to Arthas who was frozen and shocked having witnessed what just happened. He tapped him on his pauldron.

"Prince Arthas… we didn't have a choice." Nathanos said to him.

Arthas nodded his head in response. "I need to get back to my men. I need to go to Andorhal and save my people."

"No, Arthas, we'll do it together. For the Alliance." Nathanos said..

"For the Alliance." Arthas replied.

.

.

"… then General Tullius killed Elenwen after the Nordic legion stormed the Thalmor Embassy. Rumors said he raped her to death, but I refuse to believe it, he's an honorable man."

"So, the war between the Empire and the Dominion still goes on?" Jaina asked after listening intently at the story of Skyrim's civil war.

"I'm afraid so." Cicero said in a sad tone.

"What about you though, what did you do to make a living?"

"Well, I…" Cicero was afraid to tell her that he was in fact an Assassin for the Dark Brotherhood and that he killed lots of people including innocent children.

"Let's just say I wasn't one of the favourable people of society. But that was in Tamriel, this is…"

"Azeroth." Jaina said.

"Yeah, Azeroth. This is my new home now. And I've been given a second chance at life."

Cicero and Jaina's heart-to-heart chat was interrupted when the two noticed Arthas had come back from investigating the silos. Sylvanas and Nathanos followed him.

"Soldiers of the Alliance, can I have your attention please." Arthas said with authority.

Everyone stopped being idle and gathered around Arthas and the 2 ranger commanders who stood behind him.

"The granaries here in King's Road are all infected by the plague. The people who ate them had no means of knowing, that's how they turned into those vile creatures we fought on our way here."

Arthas turned his head and glanced at Sylvanas and Nathanos before returning to face his men.

"Humans cannot smell nor see the plague, but for Highborn elves who inherently lived their lives around magic, they can."

The soldiers looked at the elven rangers and mages. They turned their attention back to Arthas as he continued to speak.

"So guard our elven brethren for they will help us significantly on our pursuit to save our people from this force of darkness."

Jaina, after hearing this, realized she was right all along. She and Archmage Antonidas in Dalaran claimed the plague was indeed magical in origin and theorized that a simple Dispel attack can extinguish the dark magic.

"Then that proves my claim, Arthas. The plague is Magical in origin: A simple Dispel can kill it." Jaina stepped in.

"Only one way to find out, Jaina. We must travel further towards the town of Brill and look for more of our infected people then you can try to Dispel them."

"I can help her. I know how to dispel" said one elven priest.

"Me too." said another.

"Also me." said the last one of the 3.

Arthas was feeling a strong glimmer of hope at what he just witnessed. The plague can now be dealt with with the help of Jaina Proudmoore and Sylvanas Windrunner's elven mages. He felt thankful for _The Light_ that Jaina and Windrunner volunteered themselves to help him, otherwise, the lone forces of Lordaeron could have never arrived with a practical solution to this, except probably keep killing until _nothing_ is left.

.

.

.

**To be continued.**

**General Tullius raping Elenwen a separate M rated story.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The Jester's hat.**  
**(Contains Cringe)**

.

.

.

The army arrived in the town of Brill after battling with some undead on the way. They also came across some dwarven mortar teams who were killing skeletal men-at-arms with exploding logistics, after helping them kill the undead, the dwarven mortar teams joined Arthas's forces.

The army advanced towards the town's buildings looking for more undead units and infected grains.

"This must be the town of Brill.' Arthas said.

"Yeah, or at least what's left of it." Sylvanas said looking for signs of human activity.

"Wait! What is that?" Jaina pointed at the direction of a wheat farm, and on it was a sight of a large eldritch abomination that looked like a mass of rotting flesh with arms.

"By the Nine Divines!" Cicero said when he saw the Abomination.

When the army closed in and approached the distant undead, they saw a robed man with a cow's skull for a hat. He held a strange looking wooden staff. Arthas and Cicero who was on the front line heard the strange man speak, talking to his undead minions.

"We've been discovered, my brothers! Flee and continue the operation." The strange man said to 3 of his minions. He then turned to Arthas and his pursuing army. "I'm sorry, I can't stay and chat, but… duty calls." The man then proceeded to raise some skeletal soldiers from the ground with his wooden staff.

"That creature looks like it was put together and sewn from different corpses." Jaina said to Arthas referring to the massive creature they saw earlier.

"Let's study it after we kill it, okay? Arthas replied.

The massive creature came charging at Arthas's army. It was carrying a massive meat cleaver and wore a long chain with a hook on the end wrapped around its body.

Sylvanas, Nathanos, and the 6 rangers shot volleys of arrows at the creature's body but barely deterred it from advancing forward. There were undead creatures behind the abomination and were also running towards the army's front line.

"You deal with that thing, I'll go deal with those skelly thingies at the back alright?" Cicero said to Sylvanas before he turned himself invisible with his _chameleon _spell and ran, bypassing the abomination.

Arthas casted _Holy Light_ on the abomination. The massive creature started to roar in pain as the light dealt great damage on it, its flesh got singed and smoked. Sylvanas then aimed her bow at the creature's head then released a frost-infused projectile on the creature's head. The creature's head froze as the arrow pierced its skull. The Abomination dropped down on the ground, dead.

"Forward!" Arthas shouted as his army advanced towards the wheat farm.

When they arrived, they saw Cicero flailing his dagger at an undead warrior. Around the vicinity were scattered remains of skeletons and undead constructs.

"I've fought Mudcrabs much fiercer than you!" he shouted before disappearing out of sight then reappearing behind the undead warrior. He stabbed his dagger on the back of the creature's head, killing it.

The undead warrior dropped on the ground then Cicero crushed its skull by stomping on it.

Sylvanas examined the grain warehouse and could smell rot. "Mages, this warehouse is infected." She gestured the mages to deal with it.

"At once, ranger general." One of the mages said.

The three of them casted Dispel Magic on the infected warehouse, after it took effect, one of the high elven mages went inside the warehouse to inspect the gains, after which, he went out.

"The grains no longer smell of rot, and no longer looks green. The plagued grains have been cleansed!"

.

.

After the battle, Jaina and Arthas discussed who the strange robed man was.

"What was that?" referring to the abomination. "And who was that man dressed in black?" Arthas asked Jaina.

"I believe that dude was a Necromancer, he and his minions were obviously behind this plague." Jaina said.

"Then we must find this guy, he's probably on his way to Andorhall."

.

.

"Sylvanas, I'm really really tired. My back still hurts and my legs are killing me." Nathanos voiced his complains to his superior.

"All right, go get a healing potion then you can take a nap for 2 hours." Sylvanas said.

"Oh, thank you, Ma'am." Nathanos said to her then left.

Sylvanas was left to herself. She then suddenly noticed Cicero looting the undead corpses and was mumbling to himself.

.

.

Cicero was looking at a bow and arrow dropped by one of the undead archers he killed during the skirmish.

Cicero felt out of place with Sylvanas's rangers because he didn't have a bow. When he was training as a Nightblade for General Tullius's special forces, he did very good in archery. Combined with his alteration magic, he can slightly curve an arrow's path with weak mental telekinesis. He now forgot how to do it because he never picked up a bow and shot one for years. Despite being good with bows and one-handed weaponry, he wasn't good enough to become an elite-level Nightblade as required because he could not infuse an arrow with a paralysis spell. The empire's elite nightblades were far from the Breton nightblades of old from that invaded Cyrodiil in the 2nd era during The Interregnum. The new ones could cast spells from different schools, shoot spell and poison infused arrows, and could adapt to anything and everywhere, as a result, very few could qualify considering The Listener was one.

"General Tullius can go fornicate with himself and his Nightblades." Cicero said then picked up the bow. He sat down on a stump.

Cicero noticed a stinging sensation on his shoulder, so he took off his hat, untied his long red hair, then took off his shirt so he can examine the wound. He saw a small cut on his deltoid area. He casted a spell of minor healing, and with that, his wound was gone.

As Sylvanas was spying on the shirtless Cicero, she couldn't help but be impressed at the man's physique. Her long ears started to point 45 degrees as she enjoyed the view. She wanted to get closer.

"Damn it, now the Jester's clothes are ruined. I should have casted stoneflesh." Cicero whispered to himself.

He suddenly heard a faint rustle on the bushes, he felt it must be another of those undead lurking about so he cast his detect dead spell. To his surprise there were only passive dead units detected which were the ones that were killed during the skirmish, there were no hostile living dead detected. He got more confused so he decided to cast his detect life spell. When he did, he saw blue units from afar including one nearby non-hostile blue figure through the bushes only a few feet from him.

He went to the bushes where the blue figure was detected then parted the shrubbery to see what was behind and saw what looked to be an elf with cyan blue hair crouched down. He looked like a Dunmer or Dark elf, but just like the High Elves of Quel'Thalas, he also had very long ears and long protruding brows, only it was coloured cyan blue instead of yellow. The elf looked at Cicero in the eyes as soon as he was spotted.

"Aaah, _Ishnu alah!_ weary human." The elf said to Cicero in a very unsettling attempt for a seductive tone.

"By Sithis! What are you doing here? Who are you?"

Sylvanas's enjoyment of watching Cicero shirtless and going about his business was ruined at the sound of a familiar voice. She recognized the Night Elf who stood up from the bushes: it was Ilthalaine, the Night elven student of Tyrande Whisperwind whom Tyrande kicked out from her order for peeping on her and her priestesses.

"I am Ilthalaine, weary human. By the look in your face, I guess you've never seen a Night Elf before. Let me show you my Anatomy." the elf said in his usual tone of voice before unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing? I don't care what you are, elf. It's rude and inappropriate to peep on people." Cicero said, putting palms up while averting his eyes on the undressing elf.

"But oh, no,weary human. I am just hunting boars, yes! boars and cats!" The elf stopped unbuttoning then started to look at Cicero's torso.

"But you don't have a bow, how can you hunt boars with a quarterstaff." Cicero looked at him and pointed at Ilthalaine's wooden staff on his back.

"Ilthalaine! What are you doing here?" Sylvanas suddenly appeared behind Cicero.

Cicero turned to Sylvanas. "You know him, Lady Windrunner?" he asked.

"Yes." She looked at him before drawing her bow and pointed it at the Night Elf. She spoke to him in a threatening manner.

"Ilthalaine get out of here or I'll shoot you." She said to the elf.

The arrow was pointed at the Night Elf's forehead.

"Oh, my! Alright lady Windrunner, oh please, don't shoot me… I'll be going now." The elf said before taking his knapsack from the ground and run towards the dense forest.

"That was weird. Who was that elf?" Cicero asked Sylvanas.

She sighed and withdrew her arrow.

"Well, that elf you just saw is one of the most vile creatures in Azeroth. His name is Ilthalaine. He's a very eccentric elf who was cast off from the Night-elven society for being… well, how do I put this… very inappropriate." She said.

"By Sithis… Anyway, since that's taken care of, do you mind if you teach me how to shoot a bow?" he said then went over to pick up the bow he looted from the undead earlier.

"Why? You're already a formidable force with your dagger, in fact, in my hundred years of living, I've never seen anyone move as good as you." She looked at Cicero's dagger sheathed on his belt, she also couldn't help but glance at his shredded 8-pack abs and pecs. Her long ears tingled and pointed 45 degrees in slight arousal. Never in her years had she also seen a man's body this chiseled and aesthetic.

"Well, that's because I forgot how to shoot one." He said holding the bow with his left hand. "Man, I used to be very good at this. It's just that... i didn't shoot a bow for almost a decade already."

"Okay, stand up straight." She stood in front of him, then lifted his chin with her fingers. "Point the bow at your target." She guided Cicero's wrist as she got closer. Her bosom was only a few centimetres away from Cicero's bare chest. "Take an arrow, rest its end shaft on your thumb or on your curled index finger." Cicero could feel Sylvanas's warm breath and her breath smelled like juniper berries. "Draw the arrow backwards…" As Cicero drew the arrow backwards, his elbow grazed the exposed portion of her breasts - It felt soft and warm. "Then release."

Cicero missed his target which was a protruding leaf from a bush.

"Well, I guess I have a lot to learn, huh?" he said then smiled.

.

.

.

They arrived in the outskirts of Andorhal the next day.

Arthas, Cicero, Jaina, Sylvanas, and Nathanos were scouting the area when they witnessed 3 robed figures approaching a gold mine.

"Look, it's those cultists who were with the Necromancer, what are they doing to that mine?" Jaina said.

"Let's not wait and find out! Attack!" Arthas shouted.

"Shush! Keep your voice down sire, it would be better if we get them by surprise." He said to Arthas then drew out the Blade of Woe. "I'll go invisible and try to take them out as fast as I can, I may spare one for questioning."

"Very well." Arthas replied.

"We'll cover you, Cicero. Be careful." Nathanos said then tapped him on his shoulder.

Cicero nodded then suddenly disappeared from sight.

The 4 of them waited for Cicero to engage. They prepared their weapons in case something went wrong.

All of the sudden, they heard screams of pain as they saw one of the cultists got his chest stabbed, blood shot out of his chest. Cicero appeared from behind of the stabbed cultist then blasted the other 2 with 2 strikes of _paralysis._ The paralyzed cultists collapsed on the ground then Cicero signaled Arthas and the others to come. Cicero proceeded to approach one of the incapacitated cultists and stab him on his lower spine to paralyze him permanently from the waist down.

Arthas turned his attention on a cultist who was starting to get up when the paralysis spell wore off. The paladin raised Light's Vengeance then smashed his head with his maul.

"Arthas, take it easy there." Jaina said to him.

He ignored her then approached the cultist who was crawling on the ground.

"What have you done... I can't feel my legs!" The cultist said.

Arthas then proceeded to kick the cultist on the face with his metal boot.

"Who are you working for? Answer me or I'll crush your brains out like what I did to your friend there." Arthas said threateningly.

"K-Kel-'thuzad. We are cultists of Kel'thuzad." The cultist said.

"Where is he?" Arthas demanded.

"In… A-Andorhal, town proper." He said as he spat blood. "Now… kill me."

"No, on second thought, it would be better if I would just tie your arms on a tree then leave you there to die slowly, how does that sound?" he said before smashing the cultist's hand with his maul. The cultist screamed in pain.

"Arthas! What's gotten into you?" Jaina shouted at him.

"Jaina, did they show remorse when they killed my people and turned them into the undead? No, why should I do the same to them?" Arthas said angrily.

"Because you're better than them, Arthas." Jaina's eyes started to get teary. "You are a paladin: you stand for the light, you stand for good, for honor."

Arthas's mouth was ajar while he just looked at the mage saying nothing.

Sylvanas and Nathanos just looked awkwardly at the two being all melodramatic. Cicero, on the other hand, grew annoyed at the two so he grabbed the cultist by the hair and sliced deeply on his throat. Blood came spurting out. They could hear the sounds the cultist's lungs made when it continued to respirate while sucking in the blood from the sliced throat. As the cultist died, The Blade of Woe turned red as it absorbed the life essence of the cultist.

"There, now we can go ahead with our mission, Prince Arthas?" Cicero said.

Arthas nodded. "Right, let's go to Andorhal, I'll go get our men ready."

As the Prince and Jaina left to fetch the army to advance towards Andorhal, Cicero was left frozen looking at his blade. He pondered at what to do at that point on considering what Sithis and Medivh said to him.

Cicero couldn't decide what to do with Arthas and the whole apocalypse prophecy of Medivh. In Quel'Thalas, the prophet Medivh told him that he had a vision of Arthas holding a runeblade and that it had something to do with the destruction of the lands. But what Cicero witnessed was Arthas saving his lands from a force of darkness. He couldn't decide whether to kill him or help him in his missions because for all he knew, Arthas could be the one who would bring about the foreseen destructions or maybe he was the one who would stop the impending doom. But what of the runeblade Medivh talked about? The prince didn't even carry one, he carried a maul. He wondered if he should help the Prince retrieve the runeblade so he can battle the evil forces or prevent the Prince from taking it for it might cause him to bring about havoc in Azeroth.  
Another option came to mind: He could just leave. He could just forget about all of it and live his life as an outcast just like he was in Tamriel, with that, he could still _bring change in the weaves of fate in Azeroth_, as said by Sithis, by killing people as an assassin. He could get paid to kill noblemen, kings, military leaders, and the likes.

"Are you okay?" Sylvanas squeezed on Cicero's left shoulder, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes, ma'am." Cicero said in an emotionless tone then stood up and sheathed his dagger.

"Well then, let's go. Let's go get this guy." Nathanos said.

"Let's see where he is, hold on." Cicero raised his left hand then casted _Clairvoyance. _He detected Kel'thuzad beyond the dense blighted forest beyond. The clairvoyant path wasn't straight which meant they should advance through the woods with caution. He stopped casting. "Getting there won't be easy, there are plenty of obstacles and possibly undead resistance in the woods."

"Cicero, we are very fortunate you came with us." Sylvanas looked at him then smiled.

.

.

.

Cicero's magic skills which he never took seriously during his life in Tamriel were now the skills he heavily depended on in Azeroth. Because he was a being of _Mundus_ (the universe where Tamriel is located), his connection to Mundus could never be severed. With that he could still regenerate magicka and use Tamrielic magic. Azerothians on the other hand use the metaphysical essence of _Mana_ and every race have their own sources of Mana, the High Elves for instance get their Mana from the Sunwell.

The army met heavy undead resistance on their way to the town of Andorhal through the forests. They came across houses plagued with undeath, bandits, and hostile wildlife. With Cicero's detect spells, detect life and detect undead, they managed to stay clear from most surprise attacks from undead forces and creeps. Sylvanas's rangers and Jaina's ice and fire magic provided ranged cover for Lordaeron's forces when they engaged into battle and it worked effectively.  
After multiple skirmishes with the undead forces, they finally reached the town of Andorhal but not without cost: Lordaeron's forces suffered some loses while Sylvanass's infantry lost 2 rangers and 1 mage.

They arrived at the town proper, the first thing they witnessed was complete devastation: The town's buildings were burning and citizens' bodies littered the place, bloodied and mangled beyond recognition. They immediately spotted Kel'Thuzad along with some undead creatures with him. The army's leaders approached.

"Are you responsible for this plague, necromancer? Is this cult your doing?" Arthas asked Kel'thuzad.

"Yes, I ordered the Cult of the damned to distribute the plagued grains, but the sole credit is not mine." The robed man replied.

"What do you mean?" Jaina asked.

"I serve the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis, he commands the scourge that will cleanse this land and establish a paradise of eternal darkness."

"And what does this scourge exactly meant to cleanse?" Arthas asked.

"Why, the living of course." Kel'thuzad raised his staff and conjured some undead forces from the gound. "Seek him out in Stratholme if you need further proof." Kel'Thuzad fled behind the undead infantry he just raised.

"He's getting away!" Sylvanas shouted. "Rangers, shoot him!"

The rangers pointed their arrows at the necromancer but their target was blocked by the undead infantry.

"Nathanos, give me a boost." Cicero said.

Nathanos nodded then crouched down. Cicero with his paralysis spell on hand started to run at him then jumped and stepped on his shoulder. Cicero launched himself in the air until he could see the fleeing necromancer. The moment he did, he quickly blasted Kel'Thuzad with a lightning strike of paralysis.  
He landed behind the undead infantry then proceeded to run towards the downed necromancer.  
Arthas and the others quickly dispatched the undead then came running behind Cicero.

When Cicero approached Kel'Thuzad, he renewed the paralysis with another blast before it wore off. He pulled out his dagger and started to repeatedly stab him on the back.

"Naïve fool... my death will make little difference in the long run... For now, the scourging of this land… begins." Kel'Thuzad said before he succumbed.

Arthas and the others arrived. They stopped running when they got close enough to the bloodied necromancer.

"Cicero, did you get him, is he dead?" Sylvanas was breathing heavy after running.

"Yes." Cicero turned to Arthas. "Sire, the necromancer said something before dying." He approached Arthas. "He said the scourging is just beginning."

The prince looked at the necromancer's corpse.

"Then we must get to Stratholme as soon as possible. Let's move to Hearthglen. We march now." Arthas said with authority.

"Arthas, your men are tired! They haven't slept or eaten in days." Jaina shouted at Arthas.

Arthas looked behind him and saw his men and the state they are in: some had bandages on their heads and faces, their lips were dry and chapped, their armours were dented from the battles they fought, and their eyes were bloodshot. One of them spoke, it was captain Falric.

"Prince Arthas sir, what's our next move?" asked the tired and weary captain.

"Find a secure area, let's set camp for the night."

"Yes sir."

.

.

.

The army set up camp on a secured park in Andorhal, the military rations of Lordaeron got bad because they never had a means of preserving food. Jaina and the elven mages were able to disinfect the surrounding grain warehouses. Cicero was able to help feed everybody by turning the disinfected grains into sweetrolls with his _transmutation_ spell so they won't need to cook them. Arthas and the 2 elven mages then healed the wounded. Jaina helped further, by conjuring water for the thirsty. After everyone received sustainance, they all found their respective places and rested.

Sylvanas was sitting near a fire pit conjured by Jaina. She took of her boot as she nursed a wound on her right ankle. Cicero went to her after he distributed sweetrolls to the men.

"Lady Sylvanas, what are you…" Cicero noticed she had a nasty gash on her leg. "Oh, let me fix that."

He approached her, knelt down and inspected her leg. "This is nothing at all, a minor healing spell should do the trick." He prepared his minor healing spell on both hands and caressed his hands on her leg as he casted.

"Oh, that tickles." She responded to the sensation, trying her best to not giggle.

"Sorry my lady, but it's supposed to do that, especially if you're ticklish." Cicero continued to cast until he could see the wound fade into a scar. He casted more until the scar faded.

"There, all better?"

"Yes, thank you, Cicero."

Cicero helped Sylvanas put her boot back on, he tied her laces for her. Suddenly, they heard loud snoring.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Oh, that's just Nathanos. He's sleeping inside the tent." She said then chuckled.

As Cicero was tying Sylvanas's laces, she began to ask serious questions.

"Cicero, can I ask… who are you?" Sylvanas asked.

Cicero finished tying her laces. "I'm sorry? What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"I mean, who are you. Where are you from? and where did you learn to cast magic like that?" She looked at him as he stood up and sat with her near the fire. "You're not a Paladin, you're not a rogue, not a mage… and your _Mana_, you always seem to replenish yours quicker than anyone. The way you turn objects into food, I've never seen that before, and I lived my life around magic for a hundred years."

Cicero swallowed hard. "Well, General Windrunner…"

"Please, just call me Sylvanas." She looked at him with her blue eyes.

"Alright, Sylvanas..." He sighed and momentarily pursed his lips before revealing his true identity to the elf. "I am not from Azeroth. I came from a universe called Mundus, and in Mundus I lived in a continent called Tamriel on a planet called Nirn. I am a human who hails from the province of Cyrodiil, the capital of Tamriel." Cicero looked at the stars in the sky.

"Did you ever have a family in Tamriel?" She asked.

"I grew up without parents. The only memory of my childhood I could recall was that I spent most of it as a serf who tended to horses. My master would beat me up whenever the saddles get scratched or the horse's mane wasn't smooth enough. Sometimes when my master was really angry, he would not feed me for days and I had to eat the same things the horses ate... wheatgrass."

Cicero's eyes began to tear up a little bit. Sylvanas reached over and wiped his tears with her gloved hand.

"When my master died from getting murdered by a nobleman, I fled his farm then lived as an urchin outside the walls of the imperial city. I was able to feed myself by doing all sorts of odd jobs, and when work couldn't be found, I resulted to stealing." Cicero looked at the fire. "Then one day when I stole from a high-ranking Legate… My life was changed forever."

**Flashback: Market District, Cyrodiil. Fourth era, 176.**

A young ragged boy was sneaking up to an Imperial Legate who had his coin purse hanging on his belt. The legate was browsing the latest wares from High Rock.

"Hello there, Legate Quintus, care to look at my wares?" said an Orc.

"Ah, the craftsmen of Wayrest are getting better with their smithing I see." He said then picked up a fire-enchanted longsword. "This would be great for elven armour. It's nimble, and the pommel and cross-guard has some heft." He held the sword by the blade and swung it. "Say, how many of these did your craftsmen make? I might request the legion to order some of these."

As the legate was busy admiring the sword, the boy suddenly snatched legate Quintus's coinpurse and ran.

"Hey! Guards, seize him!" The legate demanded some imperial guards to pursue the boy.

The boy ran as fast as he could bypassing people and even colliding with people as he made his way to Emperor's Way. As he ran towards the gate to the Temple district, guards came out of the gate. More of the guards came out from the gates of the elven garden, Talos District, Temple District, and the Arcane University. He was surrounded so he quickly climbed the ledges of the walls of the chamber of the elder council, the base of the White-Gold tower.

"Young man, get down from there. Stop climbing or we'll shoot." Said one of the guards.

Legate Quintus arrived from the market district gate then saw the boy climbing the White-gold tower trying to get away from the pursuing guards.

The legate ran towards the base of the tower then shouted at the boy.

"Young man! Get down from there, I need to talk to you."

The boy stopped climbing when he was at the lower machicolations of the tower. He then spoke to the legate.

"I'm really sorry, sir. Please don't put me to jail; I'll promise to not do it again." The boy pleaded to the legate.

"Oh, no, my son. I'm not taking you to jail. Just stay where you are, we'll get you down and then we can talk." Quintus said. "Just stay where you are, guards are coming to fetch you from there, alright?"

Moments later, the door of the Elder Council's chamber opened and 2 guards holding a boy came out. Legate Quintus noticed the boy had ragged clothes and was bare-footed. He approached the boy then spoke to him in a friendly manner.

"Hello, little man. I believe you might want to return something you took?" he said and opened his palm, asking for his coinpurse back.

"Here it is, sir." He gave the coinpurse. The boy's head dropped down in as he felt guilt.

"Now, tell me, what's your name?" said the legate.

"Sir, I…I don't have a name." The boy said as he looked up to meet the legate's eyes.

"Do you have parents, little one?" Quintus asked.

"No sir, but my old master said my mum and dad were soldiers in the great war who got deployed in Valenwood. My master took me in as an orphan when I was 2." The boy said then bowed his head. "My old master used to call me 'stupid'".

The legate knelt on one knee then tapped the boy on his shoulder. "Well, how would you like to train as a scout in the Legion?" he smiled at the boy.

The boy was shocked then looked at the legate with a surprised expression.

"Really? Really, sir? Do you really think I could be in the Legion?" the boy said in an excited tone.

"Of course, the way you climbed that tower? even seasoned scouts would struggle with that." Said the legate pointing at the White-gold tower. "Now, since you don't have a name. Let me call you… Cicero."

**Flashback ends.**

.

.

"I trained with the legion and tried out as a Nightblade for the next Great War against the elves." He casted _candlelight_ illuminating their vicinity.  
"I learned magic at the arcane university, I concentrated on three schools of magic in my studies: Illusion, Alteration, and Restoration. I did very good in Alteration, but in the others, not so much." Cicero took the candlelight ball that floated above his head and started toying with it.  
"My magic comes from _Magicka_ and it's an essence from the universe of my birth, Mundus. My connection to mundus will never be severed since I belong to it and I am a part of it. At least that's what my teachers told me."  
"Then my training in the Legion stopped when I decided to leave when I was 19."

"Why did you leave?" Sylvanas asked.

"I was frustrated with magic. I could never master the various schools of magic I studied and those were prerequisites to becoming an elite Nightblade for the next War with the elves." He continued to toy with the ball of light.

"Where did you go next?" she asked.

Cicero swallowed hard. The next sequences of his life were the darkest ones: His service to the Dark Brotherhood.  
His voice sounded deeper and more serious.

"I became an Assassin." Cicero looked at her with a cold face.

"Oh my…" the elf was shocked at the revelation, her eyes widened and her mouth went ajar.

Cicero then told Sylvanas about his time in the brotherhood, his descendance to madness, his pursuit to find the new Listener in Skyrim, and finally his death.

"So, what was it like? What was it like to die?" she asked, after listening intently at Cicero's story.

"It's like… all burdens you have get lifted, you will feel… peaceful." He said as he bowed his head looking at the ground

Sylvanas scooted closer and studied him with her blue eyes. She then reached for his hat and removed it, his red locks dropped down and caressed his face as soon as the hat was taken off.

"Cicero, your past no longer defines who you are today." She smiled at him but Cicero's frown didn't go.

"But… the people I killed… the innocent screams of children, and the lives I ruined… I'm a monster, Sylvanas." Cicero started to get teary.

"No, don't say that." She was about reach for his face to wipe his tears with her hand but prevented herself from doing so and let him do it instead. "You're in Azeroth now, Cicero - your new life, your new home." She patted him on the shoulder. "Monsters don't save lives like you did in Brill and on the forests of Andorhall. Monsters don't help feed a hundred hungry soldiers like you did a while ago. Don't say that to yourself."

Sylvanas then took the Jester's hat from the ground and tossed it on the fire.

"Wh-Why?" Cicero asked Sylvanas before he hurried to try to save the hat from the fire.

Before he could get up, Sylvanas suddenly grabbed Cicero's arm with both hands, stopping him from saving the burning hat.

"No, stop. Leave that bitter memory behind, this isn't Tamriel anymore, you're no longer an assassin. Just let it go."

"I can't just simply..."

"You can." She then looked at him on the eyes, his hazel eyes surrounded with red and tears. "_The gravest sins can be forgiven by doing greater deeds of good_. Remember that, Cicero." The elf smiled beseechingly.  
The redhead nodded slowly, his hazel eyes were red with tears. Both of them watched the fire in silence while it burned away the Jester's hat together with the dark memories of Cicero's past life.

.

.

.

**To be Continued**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Old Lessons**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**The army arrived at the village of Heartglen.** The Village lay in ruins: the bodies of citizens and soldiers littered the ground.

Cicero approached one of the bodies and examined it.

"It looked like it just died a few hours ago." He said then looked at Arthas.

Arthas, upon hearing what Cicero said, felt extremely furious. He had failed to save them due to the fact that he let his army rest for the night instead of marching overnight and arriving in the morning. He was angry at Jaina for suggesting him to let his army rest but he couldn't really blame her since she was right - his army really needed to rest. He then turned his anger upon himself.

"I failed… If only we arrived sooner, we could have saved them." He said to himself gripping his maul and shaking.

The soldiers together with Jaina, Sylvanas and the others were looking silently at Arthas who was just being still and with an angry expression in his face. Arthas suddenly exploded into a rage and threw his maul on the ground. He screamed at the top of his lungs then dropped down on his knees.

Jaina and Arthas's soldiers looked silently at the enraged prince going all crazy. Jaina Proudmoore came out from the spectating army then approached the prince to try and calm him down.

Jaina stood in front of the knelt prince. "Arthas, please, you need to calm down. We can't afford to lose our heads here." she said as she held his pauldron with her hand.

"I… I must find Mal'Ganis." He said with his head down. "I must kill him... and cut his head off, and rip his heart out."

Arthas's hair hung over and covered his face. Jaina put down her staff, parted his long blonde hair with both hands and lifted his chin to look at him. "Arthas, what's happening to you?" She saw his face was red with rage, and his green eyes bloodshot.  
"Arthas, calm down." She caressed his face with a weak-frost infused hand. "You're scaring me."

If Arthas had a weakness, it would be Jaina Proudmoore. He and Proudmoore had a brief relationship when they were younger until they broke up when they needed to focus on their studies. But even after all that, Arthas still had feelings for her.

Arthas's red face was slowly turning back to its normal white as Jaina continued to caress him.

While everyone was gathered around Arthas, Cicero was roaming around the village looking for some undead to kill. When he can't find any with his detect dead spell, he decided to look for survivors instead. He concentrated both of his hands on a single detect life spell and casted it. He could see blue figures from afar which was Lordaeron's army, not only that, he saw a faint blue figure through one of the besieged houses. He stopped casting and immediately rushed towards the location of the faint blue figure. Detect life couldn't only detect hostile and non-hostile lifeforms but also detect vitality. Faint blue meant a wounded non-hostile living creature.

"Hello? Is anyone here."

No response. He casted detect life again.

"By the nine…" he said when he saw a bloodied armoured man on the ground. He had a halberd lodged into his chest.

The man had a long brown beard and long hair. His armour looked similar to that of Arthas – decorated with the same heraldries. His monastic scapular** (aka - tabard)** also bared the same insignia as that of the prince.

Cicero hastily went over to the man and tried to pull the polearm. As he did this, it moved but blood came out from the wound. The man moaned in pain. He stopped pulling and prepared his paralysis spell.

"Sorry sir, I need to do this. This will stop you from bleeding out. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing." He said to the bloodied man before he struck him with it.

He put his right foot on the man's stomach and held the pole of the halberd with both hands. He pulled as hard as he could, after some time and hard pulling, the polearm was out from the man's chest. He discarded the polearm and prepared his healing spell.

But as he was going to heal the man, the paralysis wore out and the man bled profusely from the wound.

"Damn it!" Cicero said as he struck him with paralysis again. "I'll go get some help, don't die on me alright?" he tapped the bloodied man on his leg before heading out to look for Arthas.

Cicero ran outside of the house and saw Sylvanas on his way.

"Cicero! I was looking all over for you…."

"There's a wounded man inside the house, I need to find Arthas, where is he?"

"He's over there." She pointed to the gathered army. "You get him, and I'll get my mages."

He nodded then ran.

.

Arthas had calmed down and was now planning their next move to advance towards Stratholme with captain Falric. Arthas noticed Cicero running towards them.

"Arthas! We have a survivor! Come quickly." He shouted

Arthas nodded then followed him. They ran towards the house where the wounded man had been laying. Cicero went inside first and saw the man was bleeding again, he casted paralysis on the man again to stop the bleeding. When Arthas and Falric went into the house, they both gasped at the sight of the man. The Prince recognized immediately who the bloodied man was, judging from the armour he wore. He recognized the seal of the Silver-Hand on his armour – the wounded man was Uther the Lightbringer.

"Uther!" he said.

Arthas wasted no time and immediately casted _holy light_ on Uther until he ran out of Mana. Cicero examined closely Uther's wound.

"It's closing! Please, do more!" he said to the prince.

He tried to cast _holy light_ "I'm out of Mana!"

Uther's wound began to bleed again when Cicero's paralysis wore-off.

"By the nine divines!" he said frustratingly then casted paralysis again.  
He then casted a healing spell on his own to Uther until his magicka ran out. Arthas looked at Uther's wound and saw it only closed a bit.

"Can you do more?" he asked Cicero.

"I'm out too." He replied.

"By the light!"

Nathanos, Sylvanas and the elven mages finally arrived. The 2 mages wasted no time and casted healing on Uther. When Cicero's magicka went full again, he casted his own.

Arthas examined the wound and it closed – there was no more bleeding.

"By the light… We did it." He said with relief.

He then went to Uther and shook him to wake him up.

"Uther… Uther, are you alright?"

Uther's eyes began to open slowly. He saw Arthas, Jaina, Sylvanas, and a Pale looking redhaired man gather around him.

"Oh, no! this must be heaven, right? You guys died too?" Uther asked.

"No, Uther. You're alive, we healed you." Arthas replied as he held his arm to help him get up.

"Who did this to you, Uther?" Jaina asked who was standing behing Arthas.

Uther slowly stood up with wobbly legs. Jaina and Arthas helped him up.

"When we arrived in the village, we didn't come across live people: The villagers, they turned into the undead. We had no choice but to kill them. After we burned the bodies, we suddenly got ambushed by a horde of undead coming from all directions." He looked outside the window of the house. "Me and my men fought hard, but we were inevitably overwhelmed by their numbers." His hand slowly went up to his chest and gently touched the hole on his armour. "My soldiers who got killed in the fight got raised into undead themselves. One of them I thought was still alive and was fighting the undead until I realized he was fighting for them. He charged at me with a polearm and got me in the chest. I went down."

"How did you survive?" asked the prince.

"After I was struck, I couldn't move and I was bleeding hard. My men, they… they healed me, carried me, and hid me in this house." His eyes got a little teary. "They fought the undead with all they got… They all must have died."

"We should have been in here sooner, Uther. I never should have let my men rest. All of this could have been avoided." Arthas said frustratingly.

"Don't be daft, boy! If you came here with a tired and hungry army, the results would have been the same and you could have died with me."

"But Uther…"

"No, Arthas. Better me than you… Better me than you." Uther said to him looking at his green eyes.

As the two men were conversing, Sylvanas's long pointed elven ears started to get tingly as she heard faint grunting from afar. Her whisker-like brows also tingled as she sensed danger. She decided to grab Cicero by the hand and silently pulled him as she walked out from the house. Nathanos came following.

"Sylvanas, what's wrong?" Cicero asked as his hand was being pulled by the elf.

"I sense something…. Illusive." She said quietly. "Can you detect anything from the forests? I thought I heard some growls, very unnatural growls within the trees out there." She pointed at the dark blighted forest.

He withdrew his hand from Sylvanas's grip and prepared his hands for casting. "Let me see… I really hope you're just getting jumpy."

Cicero concentrated his magicka on a single detect dead spell. Doing so would make the spell more powerful but at the same time would drain his magicka. He double casted his Detect Dead spell with both hands for a good 4 seconds before running out. He saw red figures all around the woods that encircled the village! Some of them were like the size of the abomination they killed in Andorhall and Brill, and the worst thing was... they were slowly approaching.

"By Sithis… We're surrounded." He whispered to Sylvanas then unsheathed his dagger.

"To arms everyone! Undead are coming!" The ranger general shouted.

Arthas, Jaina, and Uther heard Sylvanas shouting. They readied themselves too. Uther was still on spaghetti legs and was still a bit dazed but it never deterred him from picking up his own maul and fight.

"Uther, you're in no condition to fight." Said Arthas.

"No boy, I'm fine. I can fight… Trust me."

"Alright."

Cicero detected hundreds of enemy undead with his spell. Arthas's army numbered only roughly a hundred plus Sylvanas's remaining rangers and the 2 mages.  
They needed to defend themselves from the coming horde.

Arthas commanded his armoured melee units to hold position behind him while his dwarven riflemen were positioned at the back. He had no control however over Sylvanas or her rangers so they go wherever they see fit.

"Arthas! That formation will get us all killed! The undead are all over the place. We are routed at all sides." Cicero shouted at the prince.

"What? we're surrounded?" He asked worryingly.

"Hold on, the undead are still far away. I have a plan."

Cicero recalled some Imperial Tactics he learned when he was stationed in Anvil back in Cyrodiil. One battle formation Legate Quintus, a veteran commander of The Great War, taught to them was called _Testudo_ – a defensive formation that involved aligning their shields to form a packed impenetrable shield wall on the front and on the top. It formed a tortoise-like shield wall, or if shields weren't available, plate armoured knights would suffice as a shield wall substitute.  
While heavy units did this, ranged units were positioned on an elevated level behind the testudo. The heavily armoured testudo would kill the enemy with their swords while the archers were safe and protected behind the testudo wall, they will shoot the enemy at a distance.  
What was so good about the formation was that the shield walls in front could be replaced with another one at the back if the one in front got tired, making the enemy always be fighting against fresh imperial troops.

Cicero noticed that a lot of Arthas's men had shields – he'll put them on 2 lines of circular shield walls  
Arthas also had knights who were significantly taller than the shielded units but were wearing plate armour and held halberds and polearms – he'll put them behind the shield wall.

"I got it! Come here." He waved Arthas to come closer, Sylvanas followed.  
He knelt to the ground and started to draw the battle formation on the ground. Arthas and the elf also knelt to look at Cicero's drawing. "Command your shielded swordsmen to form 2 circles, one larger and one smaller. Make sure there are no gaps." He pointed at 2 circles he drew on the dirt.  
He drew a small circle on the center. "Here is where all the ranged units will be positioned, make sure they're in an elevated position so they can take out the enemy with projectiles."

"Of course, we can stack some hay for them to step on." Arthas suggested.

"No, it will take time." Cicero replied.

"How about my rangers and your riflemen can hold position on that building over there, it has windows and even holes." Sylvanas said pointing at a tall ruined building.

"Yes! That's better." Said the prince.

"We better hurry, the undead are closing in." Cicero said as he casted his detect dead again with both hands.

Arthas followed Cicero's battle formation: The footmen formed 2 circular rows of shield walls and the knights armed with polearms held position behind the wall. Sylvanas, Nathanos, Jaina, and the rangers stationed themselves inside the 2nd floor of the building readying themselves behind the windows and holes of the structure. Arthas, Uther and the Elven mages stayed behind the shield walls with the knights since they were the ones to heal the wounded melee units. Cicero was outside of the shield wall and was on top of a tree scouting. He decided that he would pick apart the undead from behind their lines using stealth and invisibility.

"Prince Arthas! Ready yourselves, they're coming!" Cicero shouted.

"Do not be afraid men, just hold your ground. The light is with us, we will survive, we will win!" Arthas shouted as he readied Light's Vengeance.

"For Lordaeron!" Shouted Uther readying his maul

"For Quel'Thalas!" Shouted Sylvanas as she readied her bow.

"Hail Sithis." Cicero whispered as he readied for battle.

A wave of undead all of a sudden appeared from the trees from all directions. Ghouls came charging with haste as they thirst to kill.  
Sylvanas, Nathanos and the rangers dispatched a lot of them with their bows before they could reach the shield wall.  
The dwarven riflemen and mortar teams killed even more as they fired with haste down at the advancing undead. The mortar team's exploding shells dealt more devastation due to their splash damage.

Jaina fought hard as she hurled balls of fire and even casted ice magic down the pursuing undead.

When an undead wave collided with the shield wall, they were dispatched quickly when the knights armed with halberds and spears struck them. The footmen also killed some undead when they snuck their arming swords behind their shields into their chests and guts.

More waves of undead came rushing but every time they try to advance, they were killed by arrows and bullets or got struck down by the halberds and swords of the impenetrable shield wall if they ever evaded getting shot.

Cicero fought the undead alone by turning invisible then quickly dispatching selected targets with his dagger before turning invisible again. He mostly targeted the abominations, necromancers, and some dreadlord commanders.

Arthas and Uther healed many wounded melee units with their spells _Holy Light_. Sometimes, when an undead warrior leaped past the shield wall, they would kill them quickly with their mauls.

The battle lasted until the undead were wiped out. The undead didn't retreat, they fought to the last ghoul. Arthas's army was well rested and well fed, as a result, they held up well even when they were outnumbered 10 to 1. Maybe last night's rest was worth it after all, wasn't it?

.

.

The army walked towards Stratholme after fighting in the ruined village of Heartglen. Uther had recovered enough to be in full fighting condition and was now walking alongside Prince Arthas and Jaina Proudmoore. Cicero, Nathanos and the Elves walked on the rear-end.  
Nathanos was drinking a bottle of Dwarven Ale given to him by one of Arthas's dwarven riflemen.

He drank a few gulps of the ale before offering it to Cicero.

"Cicero, here, drink this. It'll make you feel better." He said offering the bottle.

Cicero raise a brow before taking the bottle. "What's this?" he asked.

"Dwarven Ale, one of the riflemen gave it to me."

Cicero took a swig – it tasted like Argonian Bloodwine to him, only that it was more concentrated and packed a harder kick.

"Damn! This is great." He said before drinking more.

"Don't drink too much though, dwarven ale is known to be too strong for huma… what the hell! You drank it all?"

"Why? What's in it?" Cicero asked after downing the bottle. Nathanos could see that his pale face was getting red.

Nathanos laughed loudly at him and rested his right hand on Cicero's left shoulder. Cicero also couldn't help but laugh too.

Sylvanas, who was behind them, just ignored the two going about their own business as she walked. In fact, it was quite nice for her to see him laugh for the first time especially when the night before, he balled his eyes out while telling her the sad story of his life in Nirn.

Meanwhile, Uther was walking alongside Arthas and Jaina. He was feeling hungry.

"Hey Arthas, do you still have some rations? I'm a bit hungry." Uther said.

"Yes, of course. Marwyn!" He called.

An armoured knight holding the reigns of a mule approached from behind. The mule was carrying a large sack that contained Lordaeron's military rations.

"Yes sir, is there anything you need." Asked the knight.

"Do we still have food?"

"Of course, sir. We got plenty." He opened the sack and showed it to them, it was full of sweetrolls.

"Wow! Jaina did you make these?" Uther asked Jaina as he took one from the sack.

Jaina chuckled "No, Uther. It was Cicero who made those, those were supposed to be all rotten apples until he magically made them turn into those things. He calls them sweet rolls." She replied.

"Cicero huh? That pale man with long red hair wearing black and red clothes?" Uther asked before he took a bite.

"Yes."

"Well, I never had a chance to thank him for saving my life. Where is he?"

"He's on the rear-end. He's one of Sylvanas Windrunner's rangers."

.

.

.

**More Sweetrolls?**

**To be continued.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: To the ends of the earth.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Uther the Lightbringer told Arthas and Jaina to keep the pace while he went to the back-end of the walking line of troops. He walked counterflow until he could spot some elven archers wearing leather armour and 2 elven mages wearing robes. Behind them were 2 humans and 1 elf who wore armour that stood apart from the other elves. The 3 looked like they were enjoying themselves as they were chuckling about a story the red-haired man was telling.

"… and she… she pegged Ulfric Stormcloak in the butt with an arrow!" The red-haired man said laughingly.

"Damn, Bro! I wouldn't think that would make for a 'better song'!" A black-haired man said then laughed.

Uther appeared before them and was noticed by the three. They stopped laughing but were still smiling. The 3 of them halted, wondering what Uther would want from them.

"Hello! Excuse for interrupting but… Cicero." He looked at the redhead "Did I say your name correctly?"

"Yes sir." He replied politely.

"I am Uther the Lighbringer. Paladin of the Silver Hand." He extended his hand for a handshake.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Lightbringer." He took his hand and they shook. "I am Cicero, Keeper of…" Cicero's tongue slipped as he was going to say 'keeper of the Nightmother'. "Keep… I… Keep her… safe! yes… I keep Lady Windrunner safe." He stammered then looked at Sylvanas who chuckled at his awkward reply.

Uther turned his attention to Sylvanas. "So, is he your boyfriend, Miss Windrunner? What happened to Prince Kael'thas?"

Cicero and Sylvanas suddenly got taken aback by what the paladin assumed. Nathanos however laughed at them due to the funny expression on their faces.

"No… no, Uther I'm not seeing anyone, my job doesn't even give me time for such things. I'm very invested in my duties as Ranger General. As for Kael'Thas though? We were never together. I politely turned down King Anasterian's request for an arranged marriage and he was okay with it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, madam general, for me having such outrageous assumptions."

Uther momentarily turned his head back to see if they were too far behind the marching battalion – they were a few tens of meters behind already.

"Well, let's talk as we keep walking." He looked at Cicero then gestured the rest of them to move. "We don't want to get too far behind, do we?"

The four continued to walk behind the battalion. Uther and Cicero walked alongside each other, likewise with Sylvannas and Nathanos. Sylvannas and Nathanos talked about wanting to get the plague campaign over with while Uther and Cicero had a chat about something else.

"Cicero…" Uther rested his left hand on Cicero's left shoulder and squeezed. "I just wanted to thank you for saving my life awhile ago. If it weren't for you, I would have bled to death."

"It's the least I can do, Mister Lightbringer."

"Mister Cicero tell me, how old are you?" he removed his hand from the redhead's shoulder.

"Thirty-five sir."

"Ah, the prime age – where all mental capacity and physical prowess are at their peak." He looked at him and tapped him on his shoulder. "I think you'd be a great general someday lad, and that's coming from an old man who fought in the second war against the orcs."

"Orcs? You fought against the orcs?"

"Yes lad, during the second war. We battled against orcs and fel demons and destroyed the Dark Portal."

"What do they look like? the orcs."

"Big, green, and with large protruding canines on their underbites."

Orcs! There were orcs in Azeroth as it was in Tamriel. Cicero thought about the presence of orcs in Azeroth and in Nirn – was it possible that Tamriel and Azeroth belonged to the same plane of existence or dimension? He saw the Azerothian equivalents of the Tamriealic races during his first few days: Altmers of the Summerset Isles are sometimes called High Elves. Elves of Quel'Thalas also call themselves High elves, they also look very similar in skin tone.  
Dunmers of Morrowind resembled the elven man named Ilthaliane whom he saw in Brill, he was the Night Elven man who peeped on him behind a bush while he was shirtless.  
And now orcs? The orcs of Orsinium, just like what Uther described were large in stature and had canines on their lower jaw.  
What's next? Azerothian Khajiit and Argonian equivalents? Or maybe the so called Draeneis of Outland Jaina Proudmoore mentioned to him once are the Azerothian counterparts to Dremoras?

"Anyhow…" Uther continued, interrupting Cicero's thoughts. "I'm very impressed by the way you organized Arthas's men during that battle in Heartglen we fought not long ago. Not one of the soldiers died, mind you." Said Uther with much enthusiasm.  
"During our war with the orcish horde, none of the generals of Stormgrade, Dalaran, Kul'tiras or anywhere I knew ever came up with something like that, it's ingenious!"

"Well, thank you Mister Lightbringer. I'm very flattered."

"No, Cicero I must be the one thanking you. Well… I should get going now. If you need me, I'll be at the front line with Prince Arthas and Lady Proudmoore."

"Of course, sir." Cicero smiled at the Paladin.

Uther hastened his pace to keep up and join Arthas and Jaina in the front line. Cicero and the rangers were now left to themselves. Unbeknownst to them, the prophet Medivh had hidden himself in a form of a crow that flew past by them. The crow landed on a tree.

Cicero noticed the black bird as it flew above them. He got reminded of Medivh's ramblings of an apocalyptic prophecy that was about to come. He wasn't sure of what to make with all this aside from Arthas and a runeblade having something to do with it all. Not only that, Medivh stated that Cicero had a role as _The Bringer of Change_ and Sithis had stated that he _Bring forth change in the weaves of fate in Azeroth._

.

He thought hard, and all of a sudden, all of them made sense now.

Those words of Medivh and Sithis only meant one thing: his actions will either prevent or enable the foreseen prophecy. Sithis also said to him, '_Remember, Change is Order, Change is Constant, and change must happen.'_

Sithis was right, change did happen and it all started with _himself_: The Nightmother removed the Jester's curse and his sanity was restored, Sylvanas Windrunner burned the Jester's hat and told him to move on from his past life of being an Assassin, and he had grown an affinity towards Altheration and Illusion magic when he fought. _He_ had indeed changed - from the keeper of the nightmother to now a member of Sylvanas Windrunner's rangers.

He now made a conclusion about who Sithis really was: Sithis is Change, Sithis is Disorder.

The idea of the prophecy of Medivh about an inevitable doom happening – That was **order **as it is destined to happen. Cicero's presence and influence on the prophecy's upbringing – That was **disorder**. Sithis' desire to bring forth change in Azeroth – that was to bring balance between fate and uncertainty, or in other words, _Order_ in itself through _Change_.

Everything made sense now. He now had a role as heavy as The Listener's who was also The Dragonborn. The Dragonborn was the savior of Skyrim as told by the Nords, and Cicero is Humanity's last hope as the Bringer of Change as told by Medivh.

The Dragonborn who will save Skyrim from the Dragon Crisis, The Hero of Kvatch who saved the empire and Tamriel from Mehrunes Dagon, The Forgotten hero who helped the Empire defeat the Aldmeri Dominion in the battle of the Red Ring, The Nerevarine, The Eternal Champion – All of them maybe are the works of Sithis bringing forth change on an otherwise predetermined fate of the world. And now, Sithis is doing the same in Azeroth.

He thought to himself - If he needed to bring forth change in the world, he must begin with himself.

.

Cicero's thoughts of all that got his head aching. Sylvanas noticed.

"Cicero, what's wrong?" The ranger general looked at him with her sky-blue eyes with a concerned look.

"Did the Dwarven Ale get to you?" Nathanos asked jokingly.

"Yes… It probably was the dwarven ale." Cicero replied holding his forehead.

While the 3 were walking, the crow took flight from the tree, towards them. The bird landed in front of them. They stopped walking. Cicero immediately recognized what that bird was, which was the same one he saw in Quel'Thalas.

The bird all of a sudden morphed into a bearded human.

"By the Sunwell, you!... you!... What are you doing here?" Sylvanas demanded as she recognized him from the second war. The Necromancer Medivh who was in cahoots with Gul'Dan whom together, they opened the Dark Portal.

"Sylvanas, I'm only here but to talk to your friend, Cicero." The prophet replied in a respectful tone.

"No Medivh! I know what you're up to! he's not going to help you open another Dark Portal, you monster!" She said angrily then drew out a dagger and approached him as Medivh backed away. "And you… you're supposed to be dead!"

"No, Sylvanas!" Cicero intercepted her advance by putting himself on the way, his palm rested flat against her stomach while his left arm was stretched towards the prophet. He felt her warm skin through his gloves as she was hot with anger.

"Cicero, this man is evil." She looked at Cicero, her blue eyes were glowing.

"No, my lady." Medivh jumped in. "I was possessed by Sargeras during those times, it was all but necessary that I was slain… After I died, I was resurrected by my mother, I do not serve the Burning Legion anymore nor did I ever want to in the first place."

"What do serve then, huh?" the elf asked, still hot from anger.

"Humanity." He replied.

"I know him, Sylvanas." Cicero said to her.

"What? But how?" her blue eyes stopped glowing as she was surprised. How could Cicero know Medivh when during the 2nd war Cicero wasn't even in Azeroth?

Cicero withdrew his hand from her as she calmed down a bit.

"He told me to seek you out, and prince Arthas too." He continued. "He tells of a prophecy that the lands will be destroyed. All of it, including Quel'thalas."

Sylvanas looked at Medivh. She was still adamant that he cannot be trusted. "So, what do you suggest that we do… prophet?"

"I do not know. My visions of the prophecy are clouded."

"I'm not in the mood to play games, Medivh." Sylvanas got annoyed with him.

"I will be taking my leave now." He looked at Cicero with a serious expression. "Remember this: _you must be careful with your decisions, for the future… is uncertain_." He said before turning back into a crow and flew away.

Cicero turned to Sylvanas and Nathanos who were confused as to what just happened.

"We must hurry to Stratholme." Cicero said.

.

.

.

Later at dusk.

The citizens of Stratholme were lining up to get their grains that just arrived from the Andorhal granaries. The grains were being distributed by some necromancers disguised as Lordaeron soldiers. The queue was long and was mostly made up of hungry citizens who had to eat only once a day due to food shortages brought about by unrest. It was getting dark but they didn't care, they needed the grains badly.

The disguised necromancers brought tens of wagons of the plagued grains and were giving them to the hungry people of the city. Mal'Ganis the Nathrezim Dreadlord was hidden from view as he oversaw the distribution of the infected food.

Once prince Arthas arrives in the morning, his people will turn into the undead. He'll have no choice but to purge the city or succumb to horde of The Scourge. The Nathrezim thought to himself as he relished at the sight of his plans going as planned.  
They have already distributed infected grains to half of the population of the city yesterday – very soon they will turn into the undead. It was now time to plague the other half of population. By the time Arthas is expected to arrive tomorrow, he'll be too late.

"Citizens of Stratholme! More grains from Andorhal have arrived! take as much as you need!" Said one of the disguised necromancers.

"Light preserve you! We are in your debt kind sirs." Said one of the citizens to the necromancer.

"Of course, we… ack!" The necromancer's sentence got cut off as he got his neck slashed from behind by a red-haired man. The necromancer's disguise got dispelled then he dropped on the ground, dead.

"Oh, No! what have you done?" said one of citizens holding a bag of grain.

"Arthas! Charge!" shouted the redheaded man.

"No! please don't hurt us!" said the citizen.

Arthas's army came charging from the main gate attacking the necromancers who were distributing the plagued grains. The crowd fled from the skirmish. After the Necromancers were dispatched, Arthas approached the queue of citizens to explain their actions.

"Citizens of Stratholme! Please do not eat the grains, they are plagued! When you eat them, you will slowly turn into the undead!"

"Plagued? How my prince?" said a woman from the crowd.

"The grains in Andorhal are infected with the plague by some necromancers from a cult called 'the cult of the damned'. They distributed them to the neighboring towns and villages, disguising themselves as soldiers." He pointed at the dead Necromancers. "Kings Road had fallen, Brill had fallen, Heartglen had fallen, and Andorhall itself. Stratholme is next! Whatever you do, don't eat the grains!" He shouted with concern.

"But my prince, a lot of the people have already eaten them when some of the grains got allocated yesterday, could they turn into the undead at any moment?" said one of the citizens.

"I won't allow it! we have brought mages from Quel'Thalas and an Archmage from Dalaran. They will dispel the plagued grains and cure the infected citizens." He looked at his people with his green eyes with burning passion to save them. "**By my right of succession in the sovereignty of my crown, I hereby subject this city to Quarantine!**"

Mal'Ganis who was invisibly watching from the far-end of the city was having none of it. His plan of infecting the whole of Stratholme got botched by the unexpected early arrival of Arthas and his army. He also did not expect to see Arthas's army to be this big and to have Jaina Proudmoore, Sylvanas Windrunner, and Uther the Lightbringer at his disposal when they weren't supposed to be with him.  
Despite of it all, he still was able to infect half of the city's population. He could just hasten up the turning by manually doing some black magic on the citizens. He can just use the turned citizens to kill the uninfected ones.  
Mal'ganis appeared in front of some infected citizens then casted a necromantic spell on them. The spell took effect immediately as the once human targets collapsed on the ground and magically turned into zombies.

After some time, Mal'Ganis was able to turn enough people to have an undead army of his own while Arthas's army were administering quarantine, oblivious to the threat. Almost a quarter of the city's population were now undead zombies and were marching towards Arthas's army.

Meanwhile, Jaina and the elven mages dispelled plagued citizens by rounding them up and casting dispel magic on them. This however took a long time because they needed to wait for their mana to regenerate before they could cast more. Arthas and Uther put the City on lockdown, not allowing anyone to leave and enter the city through the main entrances.

"Uther…" Arthas looked at his old friend. "Can you do me a favor? I need you to go back to Lordaeron and tell my father to send more soldiers for the quarantine. Tell him also to borrow some mages from Archmage Antonidas of Dalaran or King Anasterian."

"Of course, Arthas, I can go with haste right now."

"Thank you. Go ask Jaina to cast a portal for you."

With Uther's departure, Arthas can now look for Mal'Ganis and possibly fight with him without worrying about Uther getting killed in a skirmish. The Nathrazeim should be hiding within the city somewhere.  
He gathered Falric and Marwyn and a handful of his knights and footmen to locate the whereabouts of Mal'Ganis, and kill him.

He didn't really need to look far though as they suddenly heard screams of panic and fear from deep within the city. People were running away towards them, some had children in their arms. Arthas could see the level of fear from their faces as they ran to get away from something terrifying.

"What's going on?" he stopped one of the fleeing citizens. "What are you running from?"

"Undead! Zombies! They're everywhere and there's a large demon turning everyone into those things!" the man said before running away.

"Damn it! Falric, Marwyn! Go get my men. Tell Jaina and the Mages to stop dispelling and take the townspeople to safety."

"Aye sir." Said Captain Falric before leaving.

"Stay indoors and don't come out!" Arthas shouted at the fleeing townsfolk.

Arthas was left with 5 knights and 5 footmen. They prepared their weapons as soon as the saw a tall figure behind the fleeing townsfolk. The figure had large bat-like wings coloured black, wore segmented plate armour adorned with skulls and spikes, the figure's fingers were long and robust with sharp claws, and the figure's horned bald head showed a pale face and with long fangs. The figure began to speak.

"I've been waiting for you, young prince. I am Mal'Ganis. As you can see, half of the population is now mine. I will now turn this city household by household and ...gah!" Mal'Ganis suddenly was struck by a frost arrow courtesy of Sylvanas Windrunner who was behind Arthas's infantry. Cicero, Nathanos and 4 elven rangers came rushing to join Arthas' men.

"You will pay for the deaths you've caused, vile demon!" Arthas shouted.

The Dreadlord got hit on the shoulder. The arrow glanced off his plate armour but the frost infusion hurt him a bit. He got angered and ordered his undead army to pursue them and slaughter every living being in sight.

"You've already lost, young prince." Said the Dreadlord smugly.

The zombies marched their way towards Arthas' infantry. The zombies may be easy to dispatch but their numbers may overwhelm them. Arthas hoped that captain Falric would hurry up fetching the bulk of his forces.

The zombies threw themselves at the infantry and were easily killed by Arthas and his men. The rangers helped by providing ranged cover. Cicero joined the knights in the melee.  
After some time, more of the zombies came and Arthas's men and the Rangers decided to fall back.

"Fall back!" Arthas Shouted.

"Rangers, fall back!" Sylvanas commanded.

When they turned around and ran, they saw Captain Falric and Jaina arrive with the bulk of Arthas' army behind them. They were quickly advancing forward towards the zombie horde.

"Prince Arthas! Awaiting orders!" Said Marwyn.

"Charge!" shouted Arthas.

The army smashed into the undead horde. Knights with halberds and polearms skewered the zombies. Footmen hacked and slashed them with their arming swords. The dwarven riflemen and mortar teams shot and blasted them to oblivion.  
Jaina Proudmoore killed scores of zombies with her fire and ice magic and her water elementals.  
Sylvanas and her rangers shot the zombies with accurate headshots with their bows.  
Arthas and Cicero were on the frontmost line striking down the undead with their enchanted weapons.

Mal'Ganis's undead horde were losing and were running out. He decided to go into battle to show them what he was all about.  
The dreadlord tuned himself into a bat and encircled the army looking for a weak point. He then saw Jaina Proudmoore and the elven mages fighting against the zombies behind the armoured units. He chose them as targets because they were poorly armoured, especially Jaina who had uncovered parts of her body.  
He landed in front of Jaina and the Mages then reverted back into his dreadlord form. He quickly casted a necromantic spell that blasted them with high-velocity projectiles made of vampire bats.

The elven mages died instantly while Jaina got severely wounded. She got thrown away by the force of the spell. She had cuts all over her body especially on her face, wrists, upper chest, and midriff which were not covered by her revealing mage clothing.

The dreadlord approached her and raised his long sharp claws, ready to deliver the killing blow.

"So, you're prince Arthas's future consort huh?" Mal'Ganis said mockingly. "Your Fairytale is over, sweet princess."

Jaina said nothing, although she liked the idea of her being Arthas's consort as a princess of Lordaeron.  
She braced herself and closed her eyes as she knew it was the end for her.

All of a sudden, she heard the dreadlord scream in pain. She opened her eyes and could see Mal'Ganis getting immolated by a light from the sky – Arthas had casted Holy Light on the dreadlord.

"Don't touch her, you foul beast!" shouted Arthas as he hit the dreadlord in the face with his holy maul.

"You underestimate my power, young prince." Said Mal'Ganis then he laughed.

"I will kill you!" shouted the paladin then swung his maul with all his might trying to hit the dreadlord but instead, he hit air.

The dreadlord quickly turned into a bat and fled.

Arthas turned his attention to the downed mage and immediately casted Holy Light on Jaina until he ran out of mana. Jaina's wounds stopped bleeding and were closed by the healing light.

"Jaina! Please speak to me! Are you okay?" Arthas said as he knelt down to check on the mage.

"It… stings a bit… but I'm alright." She said.

"Thank the Light!" Arthas said with relief then hugged her. "I could have sworn I lost you there."

Cicero came running towards Arthas, Nathanos came following.

"Prince Arthas, where's the bat man? Did you kill him?" Cicero asked.

"No, Cicero. He turned into a bat then fled."

"Damn! I'll go find him. You tend to Miss Proudmoore" Cicero said then ran.

"I'll go with you." Said Nathanos.

"Be careful! He's dangerous!" Arthas shouted behind the running men.

As the army continued fighting the undead. Cicero tried to locate the dreadlord with his _detect dead_ spell. He ran around while casting ever so often until he found a red figure high above a monastic tower.  
The tower was tall and it had a large circular seal that had the same symbol on Arthas's monastic scapular(AKA - Tabard in WOW). This must be the seal of the paladin's order, the Silver Hand. Cicero thought recalling Uther's conversation.  
The dreadlord was at the top of the tower, possibly on the topmost balcony. Cicero now wished he should have studied magic in Morrowind with the Telvanni Wizards so he could _levitate_.

"Where is he?" Nathanos asked.

"Up there." He pointed at the roof of the tower.

"I can't shoot him from here, he's way too high."

"I'll climb up then."

"I'll cover your six."

Cicero casted _clairvoyance_. The clairvoyant path was tall and helical: He had to take the stairs.  
He untiringly ascended the stairs of the tower with great haste. Nathanos however didn't have the same conditioning as Cicero so he climbed the stairs slower.

Cicero met Mal'Ganis on the balcony. He drew out his dagger, _The Blade of Woe_, as he tried to backstab the dreadlord.  
Mal'Ganis however noticed him from behind then turned around.

"Wait… You're not Arthas, who are you? One of his knaves? A court jester perhaps?" Mal'Ganis said mockingly.

Cicero didn't want to waste time by thinking for a reply. He casted _stoneflesh_ then charged at the dreadlord with zeal. The dreadlord blocked Cicero's strike with his armoured right forearm then struck him with on the chest his left claws. Mal'Ganis felt he just hit a rock with his claws.

Cicero avoided getting lacerated by the strike but Mal'Ganis's unhuman strength knocked the wind out of him. It didn't deter him from keeping on fighting though. He then proceeded to faint a stab at the dreadlord's face, and when the dreadlord raised his hand, Cicero kicked the dreadlord in the nuts. It sounded like rock hit metal.  
The dreadlord doubled down in pain as he felt like his testicles just got squished. Cicero then looked for gaps on the dreadlord's armour and saw there was chainmail under his armpit. Plate steel can't be stabbed, a mace or a Warhammer could dent it but not a dagger. Chainmail on the other hand can be defeated by pointy objects - if a weapon's tip is acute enough, the tip would just go through the holes of the mail or even break the rings and dig deep even further.  
He held his dagger in the reverse grip and stabbed the Blade of Woe through the dreadlord's armpit. The blade forced its way through breaking some of the rivetted mail and dug deep into the dreadlord's flesh. The dreadlord screamed in pain as he got stabbed and got some of his life essence sucked by the blade's enchantment.  
Cicero withdrew the blade then held it in a saber grip. He thrusted the blade towards the dreadlord's head but instead of striking him, he struck air - The dreadlord quickly transformed into a bat and flew away.  
The bat didn't flee though, Cicero saw the bat revert back into its dreadlord form hovering in the air as it flapped its large bat-like wings. Mal'Ganis casted a necromantic spell on Cicero and hit him with a swarm of high velocity vampire bats.

As the bats came, Cicero covered up. The stoneflesh prevented him from taking any damage from the bats but he didn't know Mal'Ganis was charging at him. The dreadlord flew with fast speed towards Cicero who was covering up and struck him with his shoulder. Cicero got thrown away by the momentum and he collided with the steel railings. As he did, he heard something crack on his shoulder followed by a surge of pain. He lay sideways on the flooring dazed as the dreadlord approached him.

"You, you handled yourself pretty well. I'm guessing you're one of Arthas's elite soldiers?" He said then retracted his claws. "You broke my claws, with your clothes. What kind of sorcery was that hmm?"

Cicero must have dropped his dagger when he got hit by Mal'Ganis, he saw the dagger just a few paces behind the dreadlord.

The dreadlord continued. "After I kill you, I'll raise you and make you my champion, together we shall serve the Burning Legion!" Mal'Ganis prepared his bat spell again, but as soon as he was going to finish him off, Nathanos out of nowhere shot the dreadlord on the back with his bow.

The dreadlord grunted then turned around and charged at Nathanos.

Cicero quickly healed himself then hurried to get his dagger. When he did, he suddenly heard Nathanos scream in agony. Cicero looked and saw Mal'Ganis's claw went through Nathanos's chest. The dreadlord withdrew his arm then licked the blood on it.

"No!" Cicero screamed.

He casted paralysis on Mal'Ganis. The dreadlord dropped down on one knee. The paralysis wasn't strong enough against the dreadlord to fully incapacitate him but the spell made his muscles weaken and relax.

"What is this? I can't feel my legs!" the dreadlord said worryingly.

Cicero, with lightning speed, slashed Mal'Ganis on his throat then repeatedly stabbed him on the neck.

"Die! Die! Die! Die!" Shouted Cicero as he went on a frenzy.

As he was going to finish him off by stabbing Mal'Ganis in the ear, the dreadlord suddenly turned into a bat once again then fled.  
He heard the dreadlord's loud low and raspy voice from the fleeing bat.

"This isn't over! Tell Arthas to gather his forces and meet me in the arctic land of _Northrend_, it is where his and your true destiny will unfold." Mal'Ganis said then flew into the dark night sky.

Cicero rushed towards Nathanos who was lying on the wooden flooring, he was still breathing, albeit very shallowly. He saw the wound inflicted by Mal'Ganis on his chest – it was gaping hole. He could see his bloodied lungs inflate and deflate with each breath. He could also see the white bones of his ribs.

"Don't move, Nathanos… I'll fix you."

Cicero casted healing on Nathanos until his magicka ran out. He restored some parts of his damaged lungs but he was still bleeding.

"Just a bit more, we can get through this, man. You'll live." Cicero said.

"That's… very ambitious of you." Whispered Nathanos.

"No, just a bit more…" Cicero said before casting paralysis to temporarily stop the bleeding. He then tried to heal him but his magicka ran out again. "Mara, Kynareth, Akatosh help me!" Cicero shouted at the Tamriellic gods for aid, but to no avail. When the paralysis spell exhausted, Nathanos began to speak and move again.

Nathanos chuckled. "It's okay, you've tried… listen, Cicero. You know…Sylvanas... beautiful lass, isn't she?" He said then coughed blood. "I had feelings for her… but, she… restricted our relationship… to only business." He whispered then held Cicero's arm with a firm grip. "The way she talks to you though, it's just different… when she talks to us rangers... she... treats us like crap... but with you? I think... I think she likes you, man."

Cicero casted healing on him again but his magicka quickly ran out.

Nathanos continued. "Tell me… do you love her?" he said as he gripped Cicero's hand harder.

Cicero began to get teary. "Yes… Yes, I do."

Nathanos slowly reached for his bow then placed it firmly on Cicero's chest. "Will you promise that…you take care of her...for me?"

"I will, I will my friend… I promise you." He said as he took Nathanos' bow.

"One more thing..." Nathanos began to smile and chuckle. "I have… dwarven ale… inside a coffer… under my bed… they're all yours, I know you like dwarven ale. Just… don't tell Sylvanas I've been hiding them from her… all those… years." He said before finally drawing his last breath.

"Goodnight my friend." Cicero said then he closed Nathanos's eyes with his hand. He closed his own eyes and bowed, he then proceeded to pray to one of the 9 divines, _Arkay,_ the god of life and death. Even though he knew that the 9 divines are only present in Mundus, he still prayed for Nathanos's soul hoping he would not get lost in the afterlife.

**"_Blessed Arkay, take this poor soul under your care_  
**_**may your brilliant light cleanse his immortal soul.  
Blessed Arkay, bless this soul and sanctify this broken vessel.**_  
_**May your Light keep him in its warm and soothing embrace.**_  
**_Once again, I ask you to cleanse this vessel and let his soul rest in peace_"**

.

.

Sylvanas and Arthas came rushing up the stairs of the tower.  
When they finally reached the top, they were shocked at what they saw. A wide pool of blood was on the wooden flooring.

Arthas heard Sylvanas wail loudly when she saw Cicero crouched beside Nathanos's body. She rushed to join him.

"Where's Mal'Ganis?" Arthas asked.

"I was about to kill him. But he turned into a bat and flew away." Cicero said. He stood up and approached Arthas. "He told me: we must meet him in a place called Northrend."

"My heart is heavy for your loss." He said to Cicero then looked at Sylvanas who was sobbing at Nathanos's corpse. "We'll get Mal'Ganis. We'll hunt him to the ends of the earth… you hear me? To the ends of the earth."

.

.

.

**To be Continued**


	10. Chapter 10

**(Warning! Contains cringe)**

**.**

**Chapter 10: To Northrend.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Morning came.**

Uther the Lightbringer arrived with some mages from Dalaran, together with some armoured knights and footmen. They continued the quarantining process while putting the whole city in lockdown.  
The quarantine process went like this:

All of the citizens were all required to be grouped up, rounded up, then dispelled. After the dispelling, they were kept in one area to be examined. Those who still showed symptoms of the plague despite the dispelling will undergo dispelling again, but if the symptoms persist… then nothing could be done.  
The uncurable ones were given a chance to say goodbye to their families, have a sweetroll for their last meal, and receive their last rites from Uther or the priests before being executed by the knights.

The purified citizens of Stratholme were now disposing the dead - The corpses of Zombies and dead Stratholme citizens were getting gathered and piled up for mass cremation. Arthas's army of one hundred men have been reduced to just sixty. Sylvanas Windrunner lost all of her mages and only has 2 remaining rangers. Their deaths have not been for naught though because despite of it all, all of the undead have been dispatched and Mal'Ganis have retreated. The city is safe, at least for now.

Nathanos Marris's body was lying down on a neatly stacked pile of wooden poles. Cicero put 2 golden Septims on Nathanos's eyes.  
It was an Imperial tradition to put 2 septims on the eyes of a deceased general or high-ranking officer who died in battle before cremation. The Legionnaires did so when they cremated General Tullius's body after he died during the raid of the Thalmor embassy. The Dragonborn said, 'Tullius died with a smile on his face' however, she never went into details as to how exactly Tullius died but she insisted that he died honorably and happily.  
Falric, Marwyn, Jaina Proudmoore, Cicero, and Sylvanas Windrunner gathered around him as Prince Arthas Menethil recited a prayer. They all bowed their heads as the Paladin spoke.

"**Nathanos Marris's death was devastating, but we can take comfort in knowing that The Light will hold him close and that he shall find peace in the afterlife, free from all the burdens of life – hurt, hardships, pain, and war.  
He laced his boots, wore his armour, strung his bow, and risked his life to protect the lives of people and fought against evil. We pray that he shall be in eternal paradise… from now on till the rest of endless time.**"

Arthas closed his tome. "Let's all take 30 seconds of silence to honor our fallen brother in arms."

After the prayer, Sylvanas approached the wood pile with a torch then spoke her last goodbye.

"Nathanos, thank you for everything. You were one of my best students, my best ranger, and my best friend." She began to choke up with tears. "Hey, do you remember during King Anasterian's birthday? When you drank that charm-spiked juice Kael'Thas concocted for me, and it was you who drank it by mistake?" She chucked at the funny memory whilst being teary. "I could go on forever about how good of a person you are, but… let's not keep the gods waiting… I'll miss you Nathanos." She said then placed the torch on the hay tinder under the stacked wood pile.

Cicero silently casted _Detect Dead_, he could see Nathanos's ghost embrace the sobbing elf before fading away.

.

.

**The next day** after the funeral ceremony, Arthas went to the northern fleet and inspected 7 large galleys for the Northrend voyage to pursue Mal'Ganis. All the galleys were in excellent condition, he also decided to not bring too many men but instead bring supplies and weapons – lots of them. He didn't want to have a repeat of the plague campaign where in he brought a lot of soldiers but didn't bring enough supplies. This time, he'll bring more soldiers and even more supplies. As the prince was contemplating his next move, his thoughts were interrupted by Jaina Proudmoore who appeared behind him.

"Arthas, you're not seriously considering going there, are you?" Jaina said.

Arthas turned around and saw Jaina slowly approaching. "Yes Jaina, I must. We may be safe now, but there's no way of telling when Mal'Ganis might come back or what might be his next move."

"It just feels like it's a trap to me, and Mal'Ganis is luring you to it." Jaina stopped walking as she was already 2 steps from him. She looked down for a moment then looked up at Arthas with a concerned look. "Please, you have to reconsider."

"I already failed my people. I will not do so again, Jaina."

"No Arthas, you didn't fail your people." She looked at him in the eyes. "You still saved a lot. It may not matter to you in the grand scheme of things but it matters to them… every single one of them whom you saved. Your people already love you and I'm very sure you will make your father proud. There's nothing more to prove, Arthas."

"You may be right, but isn't about proving. I still need to go and stop Mal'Ganis. It's the only way to ensure my people's safety from the undead. If I were to die in the glaciers of Northrend, then so be it – at least I died knowing I tried my hardest to save my people, and my people knew I died trying to save them."

"Please, don't go. Your father needs you and I…"

"I must! I need to do this, Jaina." Arthas cut her off.

Jaina's eyes began to get teary as she knew Arthas couldn't be persuaded to not push through.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just that… I have a feeling this might be the last time I'll get to see you again." Jaina put her head down and put her fingers on the back of her head to unhook her locket. She stepped closer, took the Prince's unresisting left hand and placed her locket on his palm. Some of her tears even fell on it. "I want you to have this… remember me, Arthas.

"Jaina…"

"I knew it was a long time… and that we were young, but being with you was one of the best days of my life." She began to choke up. "You're now a Paladin and I'm now a Mage… I guess we won't be fighting about our studies anymore, right?" she wiped some of her tears and faked a smile. "After you became a Paladin, I hoped that we can continue where we left off but…" More tears started flowing. "We… we started to get even more distant."

"Jaina… You cared?"

"I did… and…I…" Her lips began to tremble as she struggled to say what she felt. "I still do!... I still do, Arthas!"

Arthas suddenly hugged her and started to wail loudly. "Jaina… I still love you too… Even through all those years… I am sorry, my love! I thought you were just avoiding me." He said whilst sobbing.  
Both sobbed hard after witnessing their revelations. Jaina's tears soaked his blue monastic scapular as she sobbed on his chest while Arthas's tears did the same to her blonde hair.  
After their tears subsided, Arthas raised Jaina's chin and claimed her lips with his own. They kissed vigorously like there's no tomorrow, just like how they did when they were once together.  
Arthas then swept her off her feet and lifted her up.

"Make love to me, Arthas." She said.

"Anything for you, love." He said then he carried her inside of one of the unmanned galleys.

.

.

The noon sun lit the city of startholme. Seagulls from the northern sea flew in the sky.

Cicero sat on a tree stump studying Nathanos's bow. The bow was coloured black and had steel inserts on the frame. He pulled the string to test its 'feel'. To his surprise, it felt like the draw-weight of an ebony bow. He raised it close to his nose and smelled the wood – it smelled like it was made from ashwood or ironwood.

The Imperial Legionnaire bow he was used to handling was made of yew. They were stiff but they made up with range and could pierce through mail and thin plate armour. The Imperial bow design was of Colovian origin and remained unchanged since the reign of General, and later Emperor, Tiber Septim or Hjalti Earlybeard of Alcaire.

He wondered who could be the current Emperor of Cyrodiil, considering Emperor Titus Mede II was assassinated by the Listener. He also wondered what happened to the Nightblade company of General Tullius after Tullius's death, could they have been finally deployed in Summerset? And the war, could the Empire and Dominion go at it again?

He then stopped thinking about home and turned his focus back at Nathanos's bow. If Cicero want to be of more help to Sylvanas's rangers and Lordaeron's army, he needed to effective with the bow, just like Nathanos was, especially when there are only 2 rangers in Sylvanas's infantry.  
Sylvanas told him that she didn't want to return to Quel'Thalas to fetch some more of her rangers because King Anasterian might not approve of her going to Northrend with Arthas's forces. Cicero understood the matter considering she wanted to get revenge at Mal'Ganis for killing Nathanos.

Cicero stood up and went to the target range where the Dwarven Riflemen were shooting their arquebuses. He found one target dummy shaped roughly like a man.  
He took an arrow from his quiver and drew it on the bow, as he did, he concentrated on hitting the target while trying to remember the proper feel of shooting using his muscle memory.

He released – the arrow missed the bullseye.

"Damn it!" he shouted frustratingly.

He took another arrow from the quiver, drew, aimed, then released – he missed again.  
He was so angry at himself. He regressed so much in marksmanship ever since leaving the Legion.

When he served in the Legion, he was very proficient with the bow, he was almost at Master rank with the weapon. He learned how to curve the path of an arrow using weak mental telekinesis, he could infuse an arrow with any spell from all schools. But that was a long time ago, when he was 20, now at 35, he could not even hit a stationary dummy made of hay.

As much as frustrated he is, he didn't want to give up. He already made a promise to Nathanos to take his place and protect Sylvanas Windrunner. If Cicero could just re-polish his marksmanship and remember how to shoot a bow like he did as a Nightblade apprentice and integrate spells into arrow infusion, then he would be very effective in battle… and possibly even impress Sylvanas and make her like him.

He held the bow, firmly grasping it. He took an arrow, drew, and aimed it at the dummy. This time he imagined the dummy to be _Uther Nere_, the stepfather and murderer of Alisanne Dupre. He channeled all his hate, his anger, grief, and anxiety to magicka and concentrated very hard on his shot. As he did, his emotions shut down as he channeled his magicka from his core, to his head and arms. His heart started to beat very slow. He noticed the seagulls flying started to move slow, the riflemen also looked like they were moving slow and he could see the ammunition cartridges slowly eject out their rifles as they fired.

He released the arrow, and as soon as he did, his heartbeat returned to its normal pace. He quickly channeled telekinesis into the moving arrow with his mind – the arrow missed the bullseye again, but it curved and hit the dummy on the knee.

"By the nine divines… By Sithis… I still got it!" Cicero said to himself with glee. "Just more practice, Cicero… more practice."

.

.

**Later at night.**

Sylvanas was inside of one of the rooms at an inn close to the Dwarven Riflemen barracks. She sat on the bed staring at her image at the mirror on the wall. Her sapphire necklace matched the colour of her eyes. Her blue and white armour suited her pale-yellow complexion.

She removed her bow and quiver and rested them on a table near the bed. She wanted to get some comfortable sleep so she removed her breastplate, boots, gauntlets, belt, and her segmented pauldrons. She was left wearing a leather crop-top and tight pants. The weary elf put out the candle and lied down on the bed. But as soon as she closed her eyes to sleep, she suddenly heard squeaking noises from outside, together with the crackling sounds that sounded like one of Cicero's spells.

"For fuck's sakes!" she murmured to herself angrily.

She thought there was another skirmish going on so she quickly took her bow and a handful of arrows, broke the window and jumped outside. She ran towards the source of the sound, and when she arrived, she only saw Cicero practicing with a bow. He was shooting at something in the trees.

"_Anar'alah Belore! _What are you doing?" Sylvanas said. "I can hear you making noise all the way from the inn."

Cicero released his drawn arrow and quickly moved his right fingers. Sylvanas saw the arrow turn green and move not in a straight path, but a curved one. After she heard the arrow fly, she heard squeaking noises again.

"Oh, Lady Windrunner, I'm sorry… I was just killing squirrels, practicing my archery." He said and turned to face her. The moonlight lit her features: She was wearing revealing plain leather clothing and was barefoot, her blue eyes glowed and her sapphire necklace reflected the moonlight. He noticed she was even more beautiful with her long blonde hair not hidden in her hood.

"You better get some sleep. Prince Arthas said we'll set sail for Northrend in the morning."

"But I'm not sleepy."

"Get some rest Ranger, that's an order." She said with authority.

"Yes ma'am." Cicero casted _Magelight_ then laid down on the ground and closed his eyes.

She rolled her eyes, approached him and nudged his leg with her foot to 'wake him up' "Seriously, Cicero? you're going to sleep on the ground?"

"It's perfectly fine, the Magelight above me keeps me warm." He said and looked at her as he laid down.

Beside him, she saw Nathanos's bow. Her heart sank as she got reminded of him again. "Wait… is that?"

Cicero sat up and looked at it. "Yes, Sylvanas."

"I… I thought it was burned with him during the cremation."

"No, Nathanos gave it to me before he died."

She put down her bow and sat down beside him under the Magelight. "Nathanos was my best student. In Quel'Thalas, my superiors disapprove of him being a member of my rangers. They would constantly bully him, tease him, and tell him humans are inherently inferior and have no place in the Highborn ranks." She took the bow and ran her hands on the metal inserts. "Despite all that, he proved them wrong. He hit targets at longer ranges and at better accuracies than my high-elven students and even the seasoned elven archers." She continued. "He was very selfless, saved my life many times. Saved and protected the High Elven people despite them looking down on him."

"He saved my life too, twice. If it weren't for him, Mal'Ganis could have killed me."

"Mal'Ganis!" she said angrily. "I can't wait to kill him."

Sylvanas was getting hot headed again. Cicero wanted to change the subject.

"Don't worry, we'll kill him… Hey, that's a beautiful amulet you're wearing." He said.

"Oh, this? It's from my sister." she returned to her calm tone.

"I'd like to hear about it."

"Very well. It used to be just a single piece of 3 gems: sapphire, emerald, and ruby." She touched her necklace with her fingers. "I have two sisters, Alleria and Vereesa. Alleria has the emerald, and Vereesa has the ruby." She continued. "Alleria used to own the entire thing. She melted the amulet and gave each of us a piece. She did it so that we could never feel separated even if we're far away from each other."

"Where are they?"

"Alleria is inside the dark portal in Outland. I don't know if she's still alive or not." She looked down and put her hand on her mouth as she suppressed tears from coming out from her eyes. "Vereesa though, I don't know where she is, but I've heard she was sent by King Terenas on a campaign of some sort."

Cicero prepared his spell _Clairvoyance_. "This Vereesa, what does she look like?"

"She looks a lot like me, she's also a ranger herself."

"She must be really pretty then." Cicero smiled and chuckled. He concentrated 2 of his hands on the spell. "She has the ruby amulet, right?"

She looked at him with her brows furrowed, wondering if he was hitting on her. She then noticed the spell on his palms. "Yes... what are you… wait… that spell again! That one you use to find things… Is she alive? where is she?" she said anxiously.

"Let me see." Cicero casted with both hands for a good 10 seconds. Sylvanas could see Cicero's eyes turn blue as he casted.

"Well?"

Cicero smiled "I think it's better if you see for yourself. Let's go to that high spot, you can see it better that way." He pointed at an arcane tower close to them.

The elf nodded. "Let's go."

They both ran and climbed the stairs of the arcane tower until they reached the top.

"What now?" she asked.

"Okay, I want you to hold still, alright?" He said then approached her from behind, her long pointed ears almost poked him in the eyes. "Give me your hands…" She did as she instructed. Cicero held her wrists and raised it slightly. "Close your eyes…"

He casted the spell. "Now open!"

Sylvanas did and what she saw amazed her. She could see thin bright smoke run from her down to the spiral stairs of the arcane tower, to the pathways of Stratholme, and far beyond the dense forest towards Heartglen. The clairvoyant path seemed to end at some part within the dense forests, and also it was moving… towards Lordaeron.

"By the Sunwell! by the light! There she is!" she said with glee.

Cicero casted until his magicka ran out. Seeing her happy made his heart warm.

.

.

**Morning came.**

The citizens of Stratholme gathered around at the docks of the Northern Fleet to say farewell to their prince. Among the crowd were Uther and Jaina who stayed behind to continue the quarantine. Arthas went out of the ship and went to them to say his goodbyes.

"Arthas, you still have a chance to not go ahead with this." Uther said.

"I'll be safe, Uther. Don't worry about me too much. Also, we have Cicero with us." He said confidently.

"You grow up so fast, lad." Uther patted the Prince's pauldron. "Speaking of Cicero." He smiled. "He's still not married, so is your sister Calia, right?"

Arthas laughed hard and poked Uther in the shoulder with a soft jab. "I don't know about that. She doesn't approve of arranged marriages anymore after that deal with Daval Prestor… Almost made her go mad."

"So… This is it huh?" Uther breathed hard. "Be careful out there, boy. Northrend is a cold unforgiving place with light-forsaken creatures."

"I will, Uncle Uther." He said then hugging him.

Arthas, after talking to Uther turned his attention to Jaina then approached her.  
Jaina's locket hung on Arthas's neck: its gold bezel and the amethyst gems reflected the morning sunlight.

"Jaina…"

"Come here." She said softly then pulled him close to kiss him.

The crowd started to cheer and whistle. "Wooh! Yeah! Way to go Prince Arthas!" said one of the townsfolk.

.

.

The Galleys were ready to begin their voyage to Northrend. Arthas brought 200 heavily armoured knights from Lordaeron and 300 dwarves that comprised of riflemen and mortar teams, he also brought 50 mages from Dalaran who will serve as healers. Most importantly, he brought loads of supplies –Warm clothing, food, potions, weapons, and maintenance tools for ships and weapons. Not only that, he brought some mobile artillery from IronForge, the city of the dwarves.

Cicero, Sylvanas and her 2 remaining rangers were on the same ship as Arthas, they are to ride on a ship while the soldiers will ride on galleys. Arthas knew Cicero would be useful when it comes to locating things and looking for shortcuts, that being said, he appointed him as the look-out.

Arthas returned from saying his goodbyes to Jaina and Uther then approached the ship captain.

"Fire the engine and raise the anchors." Said Arthas.

"Aye sir." Said the ship captain. "Raise the anchor, and raise the sails!" he shouted.

As soon as the ship started moving and the oarmen of the galleys started rowing, the citizens of Stratholme cheered for their Prince. As for Jaina and Uther, they felt worried, worried that Arthas might die or might get consumed by the frozen north.

.

.

.

**To be Continued.**

** For Arthas and Jaina's deleted scene. It is on a different M rated story.**


	11. Cicero's Diary

**Chapter 11: Diary**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Cicero, before leaving for Northrend, bought himself 3 notebooks for 20 septims from one of the bookstores in Stratholme. He insisted on buying them with septims even though the vendors only accept Lordaeron gold.  
He was always keen into writing and documenting things in his life. During his time in the dark brotherhood, he developed an aptitude for poetry but only wrote poetic pieces about murder and gore.

Cicero wrote several entries during the past days of the voyage to pass off the time and to express how he really felt for Sylvanas through mawkishly sentimental poetry.

Cicero opened his journal and read through some his entries while he sat on a stool on the ship's deck.

**…...**

**4E 201 2nd of Hearthfire or is it? I don't know about time and date in Azeroth but I'm sticking to Tamrielic calendar.**

_I Cicero, keeper of the nightmother have died. I am no longer in Tamriel. No, I am not in the plains of Aetherius as Imperials should go when they die. As a servant of the Dark Brotherhood, my soul left Nirn for the Void, but upon encountering Lord Sithis, he had given me a second life, away from Nirn, into a world called "Azeroth". As for my purpose of being here, I'll keep that to myself._

_Now, I'm in a ship about to embark on a campaign in a place called "Northrend"._

_I will not write anything about how I got here, this journal will document what my future experiences will be._

**4E 201 3rd of Hearthfire**

_It's almost night time. I spent most of the day casting Clairvoyance while we navigated the waters in search for safe shortcuts and staying clear from Icebergs. By the gods, I'm really glad there aren't any Ice Wraiths in Azeroth. On one of the large icebergs, I saw plenty of bipedal walruses with clothes and armed with pickaxes. Sylvanas told me they were called "Tuskars". She said they are incredibly hostile creatures and are very intelligent._

_For dinner we had Tauren Steaks and a side of baked potatoes. I don't know what Taurens are but they tasted a lot like cow and were very delicious. I noticed Tauren meat converts to magicka and stamina really quick unlike beef or venison. Sylvanas is a very good cook, unlike me or Nazir._

**4E 201 6th of Hearthfire**

_I rarely get a chance to see Sylvanas. She mostly does the cooking while I carry out my duties as the lookout guy for the ship captain. This is so boring!  
I'll just practice some archery when the ship captain doesn't require me to cast clairvoyance._

_It's now noontime.  
Speaking of Sylvanas, we just spoke a while ago when she noticed me shooting Nathanos's bow at some unsuspecting fish creatures in the water. She asked me why am I killing those 'poor fishes'.  
Ironically, she then proceeded to join me in shooting fishes with our bows because she herself was bored too. She was insanely good with the bow – she can hit the moving fish at lightning speeds and can hit three jumping ones with just one release of 3 arrows drawn simultaneously.  
While we were shooting fishes and wasting Lordaeron's arrow reserves for our entertainment, we spoke about a lot of stuff._

_By the way, it turns out, Arthas joked about us eating Taurens. Sylvanas told me she only used angus. I asked her what Taurens are and she described them as Intelligent bipedal sentient bovine creatures who can talk. So basically, they're supposed to look like cows that walk on two legs.  
Damn Arthas. I'd like to meet one of them Taurens though._

_I told her things about the various races in tamriel: Dunmers, Altmers, Orcs, Imperials, Bretons, Nords, Redguards, Bosmers, Argonians, and Khajiits. She was fascinated about the various provinces especially Morrowind and Elsweyr. She also told me she wanted to ride a Guar and pet one of the Khajiits because she thought they might be 'cute'.  
I don't think Khajiits are cute at all. The Alfiq species of Kahjiit, yes. Guars? Probably - they're adorable in some way but I prefer to see guars as food and pack mules._

_Sylvanas enlightened me with the various races of Azeroth: Orcs, Humans, High Elves, Night Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, Worgens, and Goblins. I already seen Quel'Thalas, the city of the High Elves, but not Teldrasil, Gilneas, Ironforge, Lordaeron, and all other places she spoke of._

**4E 201 15th of Hearthfire**

_Evening_.  
_Nothing Interesting has happened during the last few days. It mostly consists of locating shortcuts and avoiding icebergs again.  
Arthas caught me shooting at fishes. He told me to tone it down with the fish shooting because the army needed the arrows in the campaign._

_Prince Arthas just knocked on the door and told me to join them in the mess hall. What could they possibly want? Will they scold me for wasting arrows on fish? Oh well…_

_I just had 2 tankards of dwarven ale hahahaha! We had some bro-time a while ago… with mead, and ale, and wine!  
Captain Falric, Knight Marwyn, Prince Arthas and I drank. Arthas shared stories whilst being tipsy. He told us about her past relationship with Jaina Proudmoore and them getting back together. He told us about how he misses his horse named "Invincible" and told a sad story about him being forced to kill it. He also told us stuff about wanting to beat up an elf named "Kael'thas Sunstrider" the man who I overheard from Sylvanas, tried to rape her.  
Lastly, he told me he wanted to establish a new order of rangers of Lordaeron just like Sylvanas's and make me Ranger General of Lordaeron once he becomes king. _

_It's probably midnight by now, and everyone is asleep except me and the ship captain. The dwarven ale is giving me mood swings and I'm feeling sad all of the sudden.  
I know… I'll just write poetry. Just like I did before when I felt sad. I'll make a poem about what? Or for whom?_

_Sylvanas, she's just…amazing. Her beauty is unparalleled. I honestly have not seen anyone as beautiful as her. She's much more pretty than Astrid, Lydia, Serana or even The Listener._

_I'll go make one right now, for her._

**…...**

**"Windrunner" by Cicero:**

**_Elven woman of unmatched beauty  
_****_Her eyes coloured like the deep blue sea  
Skin as light as her long blonde hair  
My heart stops when I gaze her stare_**

**_She is the torch who lit my way  
She is the sunlight to my day  
She is the Moon and stars to my night  
Who turns my darkness into light_**

**_This feeling for her, I cannot dispel  
And admit to her, I fear to tell  
My heart longs and aches to wonder  
Do we feel the same for one another?_**

**_When will I ever caress her face?  
Or claim her lips as we embrace?  
Sylvanas Windrunner… I want to tell you  
Sylvanas Windrunner… I love you… I love you!_**

**…...**

Cicero closed his journal and put it inside a knapsack.

He looked towards the horizon as suddenly a cold blizzard hit his face. He casted Magelight to keep himself warm. He then put on a wool beanie to insulate his head and ears.  
The ship was approaching a large island of ice. This might be Northrend, Cicero thought to himself.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**To be Continued. **

**This was supposed to be in Chapter 10 but I wanted to isolate the poem.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Like Skyrim with guns**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The ship and the galleys started to go faster as soon as the blizzard came. Cicero was on the mast and held the railings when the ship's engine roared as it sped up. He looked down and saw the galleys' oars move fast. He could also hear the soldiers inside the galleys shouting rhythmically to the tempo of the rowing. The ship captain was atop the bridge on the wheelhouse.

"60 seconds!" shouted the ship captain as the ship drew closer and closer to the shore. "Look out!" the captain shouted.  
As the ship sped up to shore, it hit and pierced through a tall wave. Gallons of water hit the deck then Cicero got drenched in icy cold water. He got knocked down by the force of the wave.

"Get inside, you fool!" shouted the captain who was holding the wheel then laughed at Cicero who was soaking wet and trying to get up.

Cicero hastily opened the door of the ship's bridge then went inside. The ship was still shaking violently as he went down the stairs. He saw everyone hanging on to the poles and support columns of the ship.

"Cicero, grab hold of something before you hurt yourself!" said Arthas who was hugging a wooden pole.

Cicero grabbed hold of a support column. A moment later, they heard a loud bang and the entire ship shook violently.

"Touchdown!" shouted the captain from outside. The ship stabilized but everyone was dizzy and seasick from the unpleasant ride, especially Sylvanas and Captain Falric.

"Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick." Said Sylvanas before running to a window to toss her cookies. Captain Falric broke one of the porthole's windows and did the same.

"What the hell just happened?" Asked Arthas.

"Blizzards, and we were hitting large waves." Replied Cicero. "I think we just reached the shore."

"So, are we here then?"

"I guess so."

"Good. I predicted that we would arrive in 1 months-time at least. But with your help, it only took us 18 days." Arthas tapped Cicero on the shoulder then climbed up the stairs and went out. Captain Falric and Marwyn followed him outside.

Cicero was still soaking wet with icewater and wanted to get warm. He tried to remove his shirt but the friction between his wet skin and the soaked clothing was making it hard for him. Sylvanas who was just done puking up her breakfast noticed Cicero struggling with his shirt.

"Sylvanas, can you pull my shirt off for me?"

"Uhhh…" she saw his shirt rolled half way which revealed his shredded abs wet with water. Her long elven ears turned 45 degrees and tingled in arousal.

"Please." Said Cicero whose shirt was now covering his entire face.

Sylvanas approached him and helped him out but not before taking a glance and admire his athletic body. She helped him, then the shirt came off.

"Thank you." Said Cicero then casted _Magelight_ to warm himself and to dry his clothes. "Oh yeah! That feels good." He closed his eyes feeling the warmth.

Sylvanas started to blush. She was a bit aroused and embarrassed at the same time.

"I…I need to get some air outside. My stomach is still turning so…" she said then went out. She didn't want him to see her blush.

.

.  
The blizzard subsided.

The Army reached the shores of Daggercap bay. The ship Arthas and Cicero rode on jammed its hull on a large boulder while the 7 galleys were undamaged.  
The men unloaded the supply crates from the ship and the galleys into the shore. The siege engines which the prince brought helped pull the supply crates from the ships to the shoreline.

Arthas looked at his map: It was an old one that dated back to the 1st war.

"This must be Daggercap Bay." He said before he crumpled the map and looked at Captain Falric.

"This is a Light-forsaken land, isn't it? You can barely see the sun! This howling wind cuts to the bone and you're not even shaking." Said Falric to Arthas.

He continued. "Milord, are you alright?"

Arthas turned to face him. "Captain, are all my forces accounted for?" he said in a phlegmatic tone.

The Captain was a bit weirded out by Arthas's sudden change in tone: his normal brash and emotional way of talking had just turned into an emotionless one.  
"Yes, sire. All the ships survived. Ours almost capsized when we hit that big wave."

"Well and good. Listen, our first priority is to build a basecamp with proper defences. There's no telling what's waiting for us out there in the shadows." He looked at the shoreline and towards the coral reefs that surrounded the vessels. "We can't make an encampment here. We need to find a place less prone and less vulnerable. Rest up a bit and get yourselves organized. I'll give the signal when we move."

"Aye sir."

.

.

Sylvanas was sitting on a supply crate.  
Before departing Stratholme, she changed her usual skimpy revealing armour to a fur padded breastplate that **covered her whole torso**. Her usual revealing armour was not a wise choice for her to wear because she runs the risk of getting disemboweled by a swift slice to the gut. No one has ever been close to doing just that because she was good with evading, but if ever she gets struck, at least she'll have protection.  
Cicero once told her that going into battle whilst wearing revealing armour that showed off one's navel and cleavage is not a good idea and that many bandits of Skyrim who did just that were easily killed.  
Jaina Proudmoore learned hard when Mal'Ganis was able to almost kill her because he took advantage of her wearing armour that don't fully cover her body. It's not like she's Cicero who can get away with going to battle without armour at all. At least for him, he can cast them from out of nowhere. He can virtually go to battle butt naked if he wanted to and not get a single cut.

"Sylvanas?" a hand touched her left shoulder.

"Gah!" She exclaimed as her thoughts were interrupted by Cicero who appeared behind her. "_Anar'alah, _By the Light! Cicero." She looked behind her and saw him carrying a wooden crate.  
He was still shirtless and had his shirt hung on his neck. He was wearing a white beanie that covered his ears and head. The magelight spell hovered above his head. "Put some clothes on, you'll freeze to death."

"It's okay, I can manage."

"What? We're all freezing here and you're just standing there shirtless and barely shivering."

"I don't see Arthas complaining, and he's not wearing fur." He pointed at the prince who was relaying instructions on some soldiers who were carrying crates, Cicero noticed he looked more pale than ever. "Wait... is he okay? He's not looking so good."

Sylvanas looked at the prince. "He looks really pale." He looked at Cicero. "Not as pale as you though."

Cicero laughed momentarily "I'm pretty sure it's just sea sickness from travelling."

"I hope you're right, but I heard stories that Northrend had been known to make people mad."

"Well, I better help the men get these crates unloaded." He said then left.

Sylvanas can't help but glance at him as he walked away. She thought he had a very aesthetic looking back that was broad and tapered down to his waist. She's feeling a hint of arousal again. She wondered how it would feel to run her fingers on the contours of Cicero's chest muscles and lean abs as he laid down. She wondered how it would feel to massage his chest and back with oil and…

"What am I thinking?" she said to herself and dispelled such idiotic thoughts from her head.

She had to admit it – she was feeling attracted to Cicero, not only because of his bodily aesthetics but because he was strong, self-sufficient, skillful, and most importantly, he's dependable and make good decisions. He's like the ideal type of man that Kings would betroth to their daughters. But unfortunately for him, he's not of noble blood. And if she and him were to marry, then the whole of Quel'Thalas would disapprove of it. Cicero told her during their first heart-to-heart conversation in Andorhal that he's the orphaned son of two Imperial soldiers and that he grew up in serfdom before joining the military.  
If she were to marry him…

"Damn it! No!" she said to herself angrily then quickly dispelled the thought. She wanted to do something and keep away from Cicero for some time. She got up then looked for her rangers and saw them gathered around a fire with some mages. They were preparing food for the soldiers.

.

.

It was almost noon. Everyone ate heartily and prepared their weapons and armours. The siege engines were oiled up and ready to go. The supply crates were placed on wagons and carriages for the siege engines to carry.

Arthas approached Cicero who was writing on his journal. He spoke as he wrote.

"… It's just like Skyrim, at least in the northern regions of Winterhold or Dawnstar…"

"Cicero."

"Hello, sir. Are we ready to go?" Cicero said then closed his journal and set aside the quill.

"Nearly, my friend. I need you to locate a suitable area for us to set up a basecamp. Your um… spells can do just that, right?" Said Arthas.

"Of course." Cicero said then prepared _Clairvoyance_. With both hands, he concentrated on the spell then casted. "We have…" he continued casting. "…one… not far from here to the northeast… wait, there seems to be some fierce resistance within the woods, all over the woods." He stopped casting. "That being said, we need to tread carefully."

"The woods look to have some openings in them." He said then looked towards the blighted canopies of trees. "We can't risk bringing our supplies, they will hinder us."

"Then I may suggest we go the location first with a small group of men, clear out any hostiles, then fetch the rest of your forces."

"A sound plan." Arthas put his hand on his chin and toyed with his thin small beard. "What sort of men do we need."

"I suggest heavy."

"Okay, let's move. I'll gather up about 20 or so men, meet us when you're ready." Said the prince before walking away.

"Yes sir."

Cicero looked at the cover of his journal, he decided to put a title on it. He took the quill and dipped it on the inkpot that was on the ground.  
He wrote on the journal's hard cover with bold letters: "**Do not read or open (if your name is Sylvanas Windrunner, it's totally fine.)**"**  
**After the ink dried, he put the journal inside the knapsack then slung it on right shoulder. His knapsack contained 3 journals and some contents from his satchel which were some gold septims, blue mountain flowers, and a wood carving of a Guar he made during the voyage.

Cicero walked towards the encampment and saw that Sylvanas was with the mages washing some dining and cooking utensils. He saw one of the mages conjure a water elemental from seawater and made it wash some of the utensils for them.

Sylvanas noticed him.

"Hey, Cicero. Finally decided to put a shirt on?" she said jokingly. Some of the female mages giggled.

He chuckled. "Yeah…Hey, um… can you hold on to my bag for me. Please? I need to go with prince Arthas to clear the way for our convoys."

"Of course." She took the knapsack Cicero handed to her.

"Thank you. Well, I must be going now. We'll fetch you guys when we're done." He said before walking towards the gathered knights.

"Cicero…" She said.

He turned his head back. "Yes, what is it?"

"Be careful."

"I will." He replied then smiled at her.

Sylvanas watched him walk towards Arthas and Captain Falric and the gathered Knights. She saw the bow and quiver of Nathanos Marris slung nicely on his back. The Blade of Woe sheathed on the left side of his belt.  
There he is - Cicero of Cyrodiil, former assassin and ruthless murderer, now her best ranger who took the place of Nathanos Marris.

.

.

.

"Wolves!" shouted Arthas who spotted large 9 frost wolves. The Knights extended their halberds and hookbills towards the advancing wolves and met them. As the wolves go too close, 8 of them got skewered. Arthas and Falric came out of the line of knights then hacked and slashed on the wounded wolves. One tried to flee.  
Cicero shot his bow up perpendicular to the ground and used his telekinesis to home the arrow. After 2 seconds, the arrow dropped from the air and hit the fleeing wolf in the spine. The large wolf dropped dead.

"Giant wolves? What else is in here?" Said Marwyn.

"I don't know, but whatever they are, as long as we keep hacking and slashing at them, they'll stop moving eventually." Said Arthas.

Arthas, Cicero, and the rest of the 20-man infantry fought as they advanced deeper into the woods. Cicero marked some wood barks on the cleared areas so they will know where to go when they will come back and fetch the bulk of the forces.

"Trolls!" Shouted Falric. Cicero saw 10 long nosed humanoids with long tusks on their mouths just like those of a mammoth. He recognized them - they looked like one of the creatures he killed in the forests of Quel'Thalas. They were armed with axes and stone hammers. Their hairs looked like the warhawk hair of the bandit maurauders in Skyrim.

Arthas prepared his maul and the knights formed a tight line then extended their polearms and charged. The trolls went berserk and started screaming as they charged at the knights.  
Cicero saw a large troll far behind the smaller ones holding an oversized war axe. He went to the side of the line of knights and ran towards it then shot the giant troll with a paralysis-infused arrow. The troll got incapacitated immediately as soon as the arrow hit it in the shoulder. Cicero ran closer towards it.  
Meanwhile, the lesser trolls who charged got skewered by the knights with their billhooks and halberds then Falric and Arthas finished them off.  
Cicero approached the paralyzed troll who was lying on its side. The troll was wearing a helmet but its body was poorly armoured. He then stabbed it repeatedly on its chest and abdomen, piercing its lungs and vital organs. When the paralysis wore off, the troll squirmed and screamed – it was a female troll. Her voice was raspy and deep but still feminine. It had marking all over her body which probably meant it was a high-ranking one.

"Kill me… end my suffering." Hissed the troll. Cicero noticed that the troll had a strange accent similar to that of a Khajiit.  
Her guts spilled out from the perforation while still having peristaltic movement. Blood oozed out of the perforations of her chest where she got stabbed.

"By the nine!" Cicero was surprised that the troll can talk. He pulled off her helmet, revealing her face. She wasn't ugly at all compared to the trolls of Skyrim who have many eyes. She had elf-like ears with piercings on them, and her tusks were not as big as the male ones whom Arthas and the knights are fighting at the moment.

"Kill me!" she demanded.

Cicero slashed her throat with the Blade of Woe. The troll stopped moving as it quickly bled to death.

Arthas and the knights finished killing her minions then came and saw the corpse of the large troll.

"By the light! That thing is huge!"

"Well, it's a _Her." _Said Cicero. "…and it can talk."

"Interesting, there must be hierarchies among the trolls. Well, I think they must be evolving. And maybe they have a culture of their own." Arthas looked at the corpse. "Let's keep moving. How far are we?" he asked.

Cicero casted Clairvoyance again. "Close, just head further north."

As the infantry advanced further and killed more creatures in the process. They encountered some Nerubian spiders which are the native spider inhabitants of Northrend, some more giant frost wolves, more trolls, and wendigos. The wendigos were the hardest among them because it took some time to kill them, Cicero even exhausted all of his arrows on them.

They finally arrived at their destination.  
They were expecting just a flat terrain but were surprised when they arrived at a basecamp – A dwarven basecamp. Arthas saw the lion insignia of the Alliance on the tents as well as the coat of arms of House Bronzebeard. The flag of IronForge waved mightily atop the erected scout towers of the encampment.

The dwarves were busy fixing the structures and their siege engines and flying machines. Dwarven riflemen and mortar teams were practicing their shooting on some giant spider corpses and target dummies. Arthas spoke up to get their attention.

"Hello! It is I, Prince Arthas of Lordaeron." He shouted.

The dwarves turned and looked at him and his infantry. One of the dwarven riflemen stopped shooting and approached them.

"Prince Arthas! What are you doing here?"

"We're here to hunt down a Nathrazeim. Who's in charge in here?"

"Here? Well, that would be Muradin Bronzebeard, sir."

"Muradin?"

"Yes sir. Follow me, I'll take you to him."

"Wait just a moment." Arthas turned to his men.

"Cicero, go back to Daggercap bay shore and fetch our forces. Captain Falric and the rest of you, you go with him. You'll never know what creatures might be lurking in the woods."

"I should go alone, Arthas. I'm much faster that way. Don't worry, I can handle myself. I just need some arrows."

Arthas turned to the dwarven rifleman. "Do you have any extra arrows lying around?"

"Arrows? oh no, Prince Arthas. We dwarves don't use arrows." The rifleman went to a weapon rack and took out a rifle and a bag of ammunition then handed it to Cicero. "Here."

He took the rifle and the bag of ammo. "How do I use this?"

"You see that bolt on the top? Slide it back and place a shell inside the compartment."

Cicero cocked the bolt revealing an empty compartment. He reached inside the bag and placed a shell inside.

"Good, now slide it forward, put down the bolt and you're ready to shoot."

He cocked the rifle and put the bolt down. He aimed it in the air and fired.

"When you want to aim, just rest the butt of the rifle on the front of your right shoulder like this."

The dwarf demonstrated and Cicero followed.

"You can aim down your sights by leaning your head down opposite to the sight piece like this." The dwarf demonstrated as he followed.

"I think I got it now. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."

"Can I infuse this with spells?" he asked.

"Spells? I'm not sure. But as far as I know, magical orbs change the colour of the shells when you fire."

"Ah, I see." He said looking at the rifle. He then turned to Arthas and the Knights. "Well, I better get going now."

"Of course, be careful." Said Arthas.

.

.

Cicero arrived at the shore encampment after running through the cleared paths of the forest. He didn't encounter any hostiles while he traversed.

He saw the daggercap encampment already dismantled the tents and loaded them on the wagons. The supply crates were all loaded up on the wagons and carriages. The dwarven siege engines purred as steam came out of their exhausts. The army of the Alliance was now ready to depart.

As soon as they saw Cicero, they all readied themselves.

"Everyone! We have found the basecamp of some dwarves!" he shouted  
"We'll build our base there with them!" he continued "So, everyone pack-up and let's move! follow me!"

.

.

Cicero placed the rifle inside the empty quiver while his bow slung on his back. He put the ammunition shells on his satchel for easy access. Sylvanas and Cicero walked side by side while the rest of the army followed them. The siege engines were at the back end and were pulling the wagons containing the supplies. They were now getting close to the dwarven basecamp.

"Is Northrend anything like Skyrim?" Sylvanas asked.

"Surprisingly, yes. The only difference is that Skyrim has people living in it. Unfortunately, most of the population consists of bandits."

"That's horrible."

"It is. From what The Listener told me, it was probably because the Nords rebelled against the Imperialization of their gods. As a result, they refuse to conform to basic laws."

"Where would you rather be in? Skyrim or Northrend?"

"There are some places in Skyrim that are safe and I like, but most of it is hostile: You can't go a mile without getting mugged or getting chased by a dragon. Northrend though…" he inhaled deeply and looked up at the sky. It was now dusk and he could see the stars and moons. "There's just something beautiful in it. But as of now, I'd rather be in Northrend."

"What's so beautiful about Northrend anyway?" she asked.

You, Cicero said in his mind.

.

.

The army arrived at the basecamp at late dusk. They unloaded their supplies then erected tents and built fires to keep warm. They even shared food with the dwarves.  
After dinner, they retired to their respective tents. Sylvanas didn't want to be in the same tent as Cicero so she slept alone on a small one.

Cicero slept inside a tent he had to share with the 2 elven rangers. His magelight spell hovered above them to keep them warm as they slept. Because he was tired from fighting, he fell asleep as soon as he laid down on the bedroll. As he slept, he had another nightmare.

**...**

He was inside the Imperial Library sitting beside a table with a small book in front of him.  
When he leaned closer at the book, it was blank.  
He closed the book to look at it's title, it says: **Valenwood Campaign Casualties – 167 4E**

He opened the book again and flipped through the first page. What he saw were tabulated names of people that showed their race, appearance, and apparent cause of death. When he went through the names, he saw 2 names that caught his attention:

Name_: Marcus Tarquinus. _Race_: Imperial. _Hair color:_ Black. _COD:_ Stab Wounds_

Name:_ Argues-with-Toads. _Race_: Argonian. _Hair color:_ N/A. _COD:_ Blunt force Trauma_

Name_: Angof Battleborn. _Race_: Nord. _Hair color: _Blonde. _COD:_ Severe Lacerations_

Name_: Ayrenwe. _Race_: Altmer. _Hair color:_ Blonde. _COD:_ Stab Wounds_

Name_: Lerisa Graymane. _Race_: Nord. _Hair color:_ Gray. _COD:_ Stab Wounds_

Name_: Irien Elsinfare. _Race_: Altmer. _Hair color:_ Blonde. _COD:_ Stab Wounds_

Name_: Little Twig. _Race_: Bosmer. Hair color: Brown. _COD:_ Stab Wounds_

**Name****:**_** Vivienne Corellius. **_**Race**_**: **__**Breton. **_**Hair color:**_** Red. **_**COD:**_** Arrows**_

**Name****: **_**Macaius Corellius. **_**Race**_**: Imperial. Hair color: Black. **_**COD:**_** Stab Wounds**_

Name_: Crassius Colto. _Race_: Imperial. _Hair color:_ Black. _COD:_ Beheading_

Name_: Nazeem at-Tura. _Race_: Redguard. _Hair color_: Black. _COD:_ Burns  
_

Cicero read through all of the remaining names, yet there were only 2 of the dead soldiers who had the same last names, the female having red hair. He held his own hair and held his locks to where his eyes can see. Could it be that these 2 soldiers were his parents?  
He first dismissed them as just probably brothers and sisters, but then looked back at their races and the date of the log.  
This was during the Great War. While growing up in serfdom, his old master told him that his parents were among the soldiers sent in Valenwood whom were wiped out while covertly aiding the Blades._**  
**_There is no more denying that the names of the two he found in the list were his parents.

As he sat on the chair, he noticed the book started to rise from the table and hover above.

"By the nine! What's happening." He said.

All of the sudden, the book opened on its own and large green tentacles came out from the pages. He backed away with haste and grabbed the rifle he had on his back then shot at the tentacle coming out from the book. As he reloaded, the tentacles grabbed a hold of his limbs.  
Cicero struggled and tried to blast the thing with paralysis, but to no avail. More green tentacles started to come out and coil themselves around his body and eventually, his face.

In a flash, he was in a forest, no longer in the Imperial Library and the tentacle monster is nowhere to be found.  
He looked around his vicinity and saw he was surrounded with dead bodies of Wood Elves. Some have their faces smashed, some had their entrails removed, heads cut off, and all other gruesomeness.  
Far beyond the forest, he saw tall wood-elven structures that were burning. He saw fireballs shot from the ground towards the bosmer structures and explode upon impact. Distant screams of panic can be heard after the fireballs hit.

He realized he was in Valenwood, during the Great War.

He wanted to get out so he casted his spell Clairvoyance. As soon as he casted, he saw no clairvoyant paths – no thin smokes to lead him out.  
He started to panic then ran into the dense forest. He ran and ran until he saw an imperial Legionnaire camp. He stopped running when he saw 2 imperial soldiers… and one of them was wounded.

The wounded one was a woman who wore a battlemage robe. Her hair was red and her face was pale. She wore a gold and ruby circlet and held a destruction staff.  
The other was a man who wore a prefect's armour. He had an ebony sword sheathed and wore his shield on his back. His face was hidden in his helmet.

"Vivienne. Please, don't die on me." The man said as he casted healing on the wounded woman.

"Macaius... Please go… hurry before the Thalmor gets to you... Go home and take care of our son."

"We'll raise him together, Vivienne. I can't just leave you here!"

Cicero, upon hearing their names ran towards them.

"Mother! Father! Don't worry, I can heal!" He shouted then hastily drew out his healing spell. He saw the woman had an arrow embedded through her chest and was struggling to breathe. He casted healing on the woman but it didn't do anything.  
"What?" he said in disbelief.  
"Father!" he shouted at the armoured man but he didn't respond.

He tried to touch the armoured man but his hand went right through him as if he was a ghost.

"By Sithis!" he exclaimed.

"I love you, Macaius." Vivienne said to the man as her eyes started to close.

"I love you too… Open your eyes! Open your eyes please!" The man said whilst casting healing on her. Cicero joined in by casting a healing spell of his own.

"Vivienne…Vivienne?"

Cicero stood up and watched his father sob as his mother drew her last breath.

Suddenly, Cicero heard the sounds of horses galloping towards them. He casted Detect life and saw hundreds of red figures from the woods advancing.

"Father! Get out of here!" He shouted at the man. "Father!"

The galloping and the stomping of hooves got louder and louder. The moment he saw a Dominion knight wielding a lance, he closed his eyes as he didn't want to see what happens next.

Cicero waited for a few seconds then opened his eyes – he was back in Azeroth. He stood in a throne room with furniture adorned with skulls. He looked around the room and saw statues of grotesques and a statue of him and Sylvanas. He approached his statue and saw that his face was missing half a jaw. He was raising the Blade of Woe with his left hand while his right hand held a weird looking sword that had goat's skull for a crossguard. The blade of the sword was broad and was thick. The statue wore a skull-adorned armour with large pauldrons. All of the armour parts have skulls on them.

"What is this…?" he said.

"Awake so soon?" he heard Sylvanas speak. Her tone was very different: It had a slight smug tone and a hint of sultriness to accompany it.  
When he turned around to see her, he was horrified at what he saw – Sylvanas's skin was no longer fair yellow, her blue and white armour was replaced with black and violet ones all adorned with skulls, her sapphire blue eyes were now coloured red.

"Where am I?" he asked. "Sylvanas, what happened to you?... What happened to me?"

"Oh? What do you mean '_what happened?_'" Sylvanas approached him and ran her hand on his face. "Come with me outside." She said then took his hand. Cicero noticed that her touch was cold as she was holding his hand.

She led him to a door. "Behold, my love. The world we created." She said before opening it. She took his hand again and led him to the balcony. Atop the citadel where they stood, he looked down and what he saw was more horror: undead creatures numbered in the millions roared and cheered and grunted as they saw him. The mountains were devoid of trees or any trace of life. The sky had no moons nor stars, only a strange looking skull-like sun. Skeletal dragons roared as they glided through the dark red sky.

"By sithis!" he said.

Sylvanas looked at him "The world now belongs… **To the Forsaken!**"

**...**

"…Cicero! Cicero! Wake up! Wake up! You're dreaming." He opened his eyes and saw the 2 elven rangers gather around him, shaking him up.

Cicero was breathing hard. "By the nine!"

One of the elves offered him some water. "Here."

Cicero drank then gave back the cup. "Thank you, brother elf."

"What was that all about?"

"Bad dream… I need some air." He said then went out of the tent.

.

.

.

**To be continued**


	13. Elven Kiss

**Chapter 13: Elven Kiss  
**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Cicero went out from the tent and was now sitting on a log beside a fire. The Magelight ball hovering above his head lit the vicinity.

He was thinking really hard trying to make of what he just dreamed of. He could not recall most of what he witnessed because humans can only remember ten percent of what they dreamed but he did remember the significant events. He remembered meeting his parents in the dream but he couldn't recall what their names were: his mother was a red-haired Breton battlemage and His Father was an Imperial Prefect. His mother died by an arrow wound and his father died by getting struck by a lance from a Dominion Knight.  
The other significant event from his dream he remembered was that he was somehow a leader of an undead army. He remembered the statue of him he saw in the throne room: his features don't look very human at all, it's as if he was a Draugr or an undead. He also saw that the statue held a demonic looking sword that had a goat's skull for its crossguard.

He suddenly smiled at the thought of him wielding that sword because he thought it was a stupid looking one. How can that sword be wieldable? It looked really heavy at the end, it was thick, it had swells and sharp corners on the handle – all in all it just looks terrible. He thought then giggled momentarily.

He went back to his recollections, he remembered more – he recalled being somewhat 'married' or being a consort to Sylvanas Windrunner whom in the dream had red eyes, blueish skin and wore armour adorned with skulls. She still retained her long elven ears and her beautiful blonde hair. In his dream she still looked beautifull but at the same time, looked dead. He remembered hearing her say: '_The world now belongs to The Forsaken'. _He also recalled seeing undead humans, undead trolls, undead dragons, and other undead creatures of different races cheer as they saw him. Could it be that in the dream, he and Sylvanas were the leaders of the undead who call themselves _The Forsaken_? and that they were somehow able to take over the entirety of Azeroth?

He began to worry. Those were just dreams and that they are just figments of his mind, but he still remembered that The Nightmother removed The Jester's Curse from him through his previous nightmare. He also knew from his history lessons back when he was at school that things in dreams can become reality and become portals for reality and the unreal. One example was the story of King Emeric of the Dagerfall Covenant during the 2nd era where Daggerfall and the entirety of Highrock itself were saved by _The Vestige_ by stopping the king's nightmare brought by the Deadric Prince Vaermina.

"Can't sleep too huh?" Sylvanas said from a distance.

Cicero's thoughts were interrupted by the elf. He looked to see her and saw her approaching the firepit.

"Yes. I just had a bad dream." He said.

Sylvanas went over and sat on the log next to him. "Really? Isn't this a coincidence? I happen to have one too, what did you dream about?"

"I… I don't want to talk about it."

"Mine was that I was somehow married to that goon, Prince Kael'Thas and that we had 2 children… ew!" she continued. "Come on now Cicero, you can talk to me."

"Well, I met my parents and I um…" he didn't want to mention about him and her being couples who led an army of undead. "I became an undead and together with an elf, she and I were the leaders of an undead army that numbered in the millions. The undead were called _The Forsaken_."

Sylvanas gasped. "Oh my!"

"What's wrong?"

"In that dream, is the elf by any chance… me?

Cicero's mouth went ajar in shock and nodded his head.

Sylvanas continued. "I had the same dream too, but it was back when we were in the ship. It was terrible, you and I were killing everyone. We sieged Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron and raised all of the people into undead."

"By the Nine! Wait, did I happen to hold an um… a strange looking sword?"

Sylvanas looked at him in the eyes. "yes."

"What did it look like?"

Sylvanas looked into the fire. "It was blue and it had a goat's skull on it."

Cicero's eyes widened in shock for a while before he put his head down trying to make sense of all this. Awkward silence followed.

"Cicero, it's just a dream. By the light, something like that would never come to fruition." She said, breaking the silence. "Trust me, Cicero. Pray to _The Light_ or one of your gods. Praying works a lot for us High Elves."

He straightened up his head and looked at her. Her blue eyes glowed and her sapphire necklace reflected the fire and the Magelight spell. Her face, her beautiful face had an expression of assurance.

Cicero smiled. "Of course, maybe I'm just getting jumpy from all the fighting."

Awkward silence followed again.

Sylvanas yawned and stretched her arms. "I think I'm getting sleepy now. You too should go get some sleep."

"I will soon. Good night, Sylvanas."

"Good Night." She said as she smiled at him then got up and retired to her tent.

Cicero was left to himself. He reached down his pocket and fished out his _Amulet of Mara_ \- the very amulet he always wanted to show to Alisanne Dupre but never did. He looked at the blue gem at the center and grazed it with his thumb. It matched the color of Sylvanas's eyes.

After half hour of pondering, he retired back into the tent which was now empty. As he laid down on the bedroll, he thought of Sylvanas and imagined her naked: he thought about her sizable bosom, round rear and tiny waist. He reached down his pants and pleasured himself before going to sleep.

.

.

Meanwhile in Stratholme, Jaina Proudmoore and Uther the Lighbringer were spending the night doing some paper works for the recently finished quarantine to report to King Terenas and Archmade Antonidas. Jaina couldn't focus on her work because of her worrying about Arthas, not only that, she also worried about Sylvanas and Cicero. If ever Sylvanas Windrunner dies in Northrend, then Prince Kael'Thas would be devastated and King Anasterian would further create tensions between Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron or even Leave the Alliance. Still, she was much more worried about Prince Arthas: is he safe? Is he lying on cold ground bleeding to death? Does he have enough food to sustain himself?

"Jaina, is there something wrong?" Said Uther who was writing on a parchment holding a quill.

"Oh…um…Nothing. No, I'm… I'm fine." She stammered.

Uther sighed hard and looked at her with concern. "I worry about Arthas too, Jaina."

"And Cicero, and Sylvanas. Captain Falric's wife just gave birth yesterday. I just can't believe Arthas took them to Northrend chasing some Demon that they don't even know if he's there. It's a trap, Uther. My gut always tells me it is."

"Well, it's his choice and his father openly approved his request to send the Northern Fleet to Northrend."

Jaina looked out the window to the shores where the Northern Fleet used to be anchored at "Uther, do you think Arthas will come back?"

"Let's not think too negatively, Jaina. He will return, I just know it: he has the best knights of Lordaeron, the best snipers of IronForge, he has Cicero…"

She chuckled in slight annoyance. "Cicero?" She sighed. "Poor Cicero. He just got caught up in all of this, he wasn't even supposed to be involved with all this in the first place."

"He's a strange man, but a useful one. Where is he from anyway, Stormwind?"

Jaina chuckled then turned to look at Uther. "He's not from Azeroth."

"What? How? But he's human"

Jaina then told him everything Cicero told her during their conversation in King's Road.

.

.

.

Morning of the next day, Cicero had a good night's sleep and slept soundly. It was maybe due to the fact that he wore his Amulet of Mara as he got some shuteye.

Arthas introduced Muradin Bronzebeard to him. He was a dwarf who was about roughly 4 and a half feet in height who looked to be at the same age as Uther the Lightbringer. He had a very long auburn beard that ran from his face down to his knee. He wore a helmet that looked like the Nordic iron helmet of Skyrim that had 2 horns on it, only that it wasn't sheep's horn but probably from a bull. He held a one-handed maul on his right hand and an oversized war axe on the other.

Arthas, Sylvanas, Cicero, and Muradin Bronzebeard gathered themselves inside a tent planning the fortification of the encampment. They all gave suggestions but Cicero made the most over the top ones which the other three found rather unorthodox. Cicero made some suggestions which were all Imperial Legionnaire tactics of General Tullius he saw in _The Battle of Whiterun_ where the Listener and Jarl Balgruuf's army of untrained Nord conscripts, country bumpkins, and guards fended off hordes of Stormcloak soldiers.

Muradin Bronzebeard laughed at Cicero's plan of setting up defenses for the encampment. He thought the idea of putting the mortar teams and siege equipment inside the walls of the encampment was a strategy none of his best generals ever did. He also thought that putting most of the riflemen stationed on the walls' crenels and merlons was quite unusual because most of the time they let the riflemen engage behind the front line as assault units and not defensive ones.

"Hmm. Well, that's new!" He said in a thick dwarven accent then chuckled in intrigue. His face got serious. "One problem though - our men weren't trained to follow and execute strategies like that, boy-o."

"So were my men." Arthas jumped in. "We did a tactic similar to that in Heartglen, it was rather unusual and new but we did fend off a lot of undead." He looked at Muradin and smiled. "And none of our men died. Wasn't that right, Sylvanas?" he said and looked at the elf.

Sylvanas replied by raising her eyebrows with an expression of approval.

Cicero was feeling a bit of unease because he doesn't like the idea of him being talked about. He continued staring at the encampment's layout.

"Umm… we can also put the mortar teams and scouts atop the small mountain where our base is. That way we can know if there are any hostiles nearby and alert the base to give time to prepare."

"Falric, are you taking this down?" Arthas said and looked at Captain Falric who was sitting beside a table writing on a parchment.

"Aye sir." He said as his wrote every suggestion and strategy discussed by the four.

"Good, with that, we won't have to worry about getting our base overwhelmed. Now, we must devise a plan to get Mal'Ganis."

"Finally!" Sylvanas said.

Arthas chuckled in excitement. "Yeah, can't wait to kill that Son of a Bitch. But Sylvanas, we still need to plan alright?"

Cicero backed away from the table. "Arthas, you should lead the assault, that's your _forte_ after all."

"Of course." He said then leaned over to the table.

.

.

**Meanwhile in Dalaran.**

"My Sylvanas is in Northrend?" Asked Kael'Thas Sunstrider to Jaina. "Why didn't you stop her?"

"I'm sorry, Kael. I had no authority over her and she insisted on going with Arthas."

"Arthas huh? First you, now Sylvanas?"

"What? What are you talking about?" she asked. She then looked at his expression then gasped "Arthas never flirted with Sylvanas, Kael!"

"How can you be sure he didn't?"

Jaina's eyes lit up and was annoyed at the elf "How dare you talk about My Prince like that! He and I went through the entire plague campaign: We stood strong, almost died many times, we overcame, mourned, laughed, and cried." She continued. "I was with him all throughout, he would never do such a thing!" she shouted angrily and slapped the elf in the face.  
"You weren't even there to begin with! You have no right to claim such accusations!"

Kael held his face where he just got slapped. He inhaled deeply and regained his composure "Why all the sudden you care about him so much, Jaina?"

"Why? Because I love him and he loves me."

"You're back together?"

"Yes, now will you excuse me, I need to get these reports to Archmage Antonidas." She said as she bypassed him.

She knocked at Archmade Antonidas's study. The door magically opened and she saw him reading a large tome.

"Ah yes, Jaina! It's good to see you again, I've heard that Prince Arthas's plague investigation was a success."

She curtsied then approached the old mage. She held some parchment that contained the reports of the Plague investigation as well as the quarantining of Stratholme – all written by her.

"Indeed, Archmage. I written a formal report on them. Here - take a look." She said before handing them to him.

He looked at them momentarily and put them down on his desk. "I'll read them later. Jaina, I want to talk to you about… the adventure. How was it?" he asked.

She put her head down. "It's rather sad to be honest with you."

"Oh, what happened."

She told their encounters in King's road, Andorhall, Brill, Heartglen, and Stratholme.

"Many died especially the citizens, the poor innocent civilians. Nathanos, killed by the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis, and Arthas he's…he's gone to Northrend to avenge his people." She got teary for a moment at the thought of her significant other.  
"Sylvanas Windrunner, she refused to return to Quel'Thalas because she wanted revenge for Nathanos."

"Sylvanas is in Northrend? Oh my, King Anesterian will not take that lightly."

"Kael'Thas already knows about it."

He sighed. "Quel'Thalas's allegiance to the Alliance is already a shaky one, now this? No doubt that man child Prince Kael'Thas will be blaming Prince Arthas for that."

"I think we need a way to get them back home, like say convince King Terenas to withdraw?" Said Jaina.

The Archmage toyed with his long white beard. "It's not that simple, Jaina. King Terenas sent the most elite knights of Lordaeron and bought some Siege Engines from IronForge just for Arthas. From that, there is no doubt he's passionate about the campaign to continue on."

She sighed. "I just worry so much about him."

"You need to get some rest, Jaina. Don't give up hope on him, I'm sure Arthas will be coming back."

Jaina faked a smile, curtsied then slowly went out the door. She went to her room and cried her eyes out.

.

.

Cicero casted clairvoyance as Arthas's army of dwarven riflemen and mortar teams, knights, mobile artillery, and dwarven gyrocopters headed further west looking for Mal'Ganis. The clairvoyant path always kept moving and moving as if the dreadlord was teleporting from one base to another. He then noticed the clairvoyant path stop on a very far location to the northwest.

Cicero got frustrated. "Damn! He has now hidden himself far to the northwest. It will take a day or more to get there."

"Is there any resistance on the way?" asked Sylvanas.

"Plenty of heavy resistance, probably even numerous basecamps." He replied.

Arthas pursed his lips and pulled his hair in frustration. He paced himself for a while until he calmed down. "Is there an undead encampment nearby?"

"Yes, just head west it's not far from here."

"Good! Cicero, are you going to go melee or use your bow?"

"Um…"

"He's going with me, Arthas." Said Sylvanas and held him in his arm.

"Of course." Replied the prince as he watched Cicero get led to the ranged units.

The army trekked further west until Sylvanas's long elven ears heard some grunting of ghouls. Arthas halted the advance as he decided to do a surprise attack on the base. He ordered the riflemen to hide in the woods, the knights were to hack down any undead who got close enough to the riflemen.  
He told the pilots of the Dwarven siege engines to standby for orders.

He looked for Cicero and found him with Sylvanas crouching down with the dwarven riflemen. He approached him holding a large mortar shell.

"Cicero, can your invisibility spell turn anything you're holding invisible too?"

"Yes, why?"

"Take this, sneak up inside their base and place it on any place that will maximize the death toll."

Sylvanas jumped in. "Arthas, are you crazy? You can't just let him go there, have you seen that base? It's armed to the teeth with ghouls and all sorts of abominations."

Cicero was surprised at Sylvanas's sudden increase of concern for him.

Cicero turned to her and held her on the forearm. "Sylvanas… I'll be fine, don't worry I'll be careful." He said then turned to Arthas. "Yes, I can do that, but as soon as I place it, it will detach from my spell and it will turn visible again."

Arthas looked at Sylvanas who looked rather upset. He turned back to Cicero. "Hmm, never mind, it's way too risky. We'll just blast them to oblivion, any advancing undead you see, you will shoot. Feel free to join us in the melee if you're feeling it."

"Of course, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

"Alright, I'll give the signal for the siege engines to open fire, kill every advancing undead you see." Said Arthas then took his leave.

Cicero prepared his bow in his left hand and a paralysis on the right. Sylvanas prepared her own bow and readied an arrow with frost infusion. Cicero could feel the cold radiate from the elf's hand.

Suddenly, the Siege engines and mortar teams rained volleys of exploding shells on the undead base. The undead panicked and clamored trying to find where the attacks were coming from. As soon as they saw the undead, Cicero, Sylvanas and the riflemen and the 2 rangers shot at them. The dwarven Gyrocopters flew over the undead base and dropped bombs. The undead who were able to evade getting shot closed in towards the riflemen but they were stopped quickly by the halberds and billhooks of the knights and prince Arthas who tanked them with his holy maul. Cicero, Sylvanas, and the elven rangers shot the undead with their arrows. Cicero curved his shots to avoid shooting the knights by mistake.

After some time, the undead numbers were getting exhausted.

"Charge!" shouted Arthas as he shielded his knights with a light spell and led them towards the besieged and burning undead base.

The Dwarven machines stopped firing and let Arthas and the knights finish off the remaining enemy. Cicero drew out his dagger and rushed to join with the prince in the melee. He went out of the ranged unit line and casted Stoneflesh on himself and ran. He punched a ghoul right in the face so hard that its head got detached from its body and dropped dead. He joined Arthas in the front along with the knights and proceeded to hack and slash at the pursuing undead.

Sylvanas watched Cicero fight. His movement was quick and raw, he punched, kicked, slashed and stabbed with great vigor. She saw him disappear and suddenly reappear from behind a large abomination, and at a fraction of a second, the large abomination went down.  
She saw Arthas use his healing light to heal his knights and he also casted a light shield that was similar to the armour spell of Cicero. The light shield protected him and the knights from taking any damage from the undead horde. The two were clearly having fun.

All of a sudden, Sylvanas's long pointy elven ears detected something, something large. It sounded like a roar of a dragon.

"Cicero! Arthas! Something's coming!" she shouted and ran closer to them.

As the melee was still going on, out of nowhere a Frost Wyrm appeared up the air and was encircling the army. Sylvanas was frightened at the sight and readied her bow.

"Wyvern!" Arthas shouted whilst fighting.

The dwarven gyrocopter charged head on at the skeletal Wyvern and shot it with bullets. Unfortunately, as the gyrocopters tried to shoot, the Frost Wyrm blasted them with frost breath. The copters' engines got obstructed with icicles and one-by-one they went down crashing on the ground.

The dwarven riflemen fired relentlessly at the Wyvern to keep it busy so it won't go at Arthas and his knights who were busy fighting in the melee. The dwarves kept missing and the wyvern was encircling the army. Sylvanas figured the pattern of the Wyrm's flight and shot her arrow - Her arrow hit the wyvern and angered it.  
The Frost Wyrm turned its attention to Sylvanas who was open, and with haste, dived low towards her and open its mouth.

Sylvanas noticed this and dodge leaped as soon as the Frost Wyrm was about to snatch her. The Wyrm flew high up and encircled them again.

Sylvanas cried out in pain as she was holding her leg - she had twisted her ankle as she dodged the Wyrm.

Arthas and Cicero killed all of the remaining undead but now needed to turn their attention at the wyvern. Cicero saw it going towards Sylvanas again.

"No!" he shouted then drew out his bow.

He picked out an arrow and infused it with healing, he focused on hitting the Wyvern. His heartbeat pounded very slowly as he focused on hitting it in the head. Everything he saw moved very slow and he noticed that the Wyvern opened its mouth and was about to puff icicles again.  
He released the arrow then guided its path with telekinesis, homing it to the Wyvern's head.

As soon as the Wyrm was about to breathe ice, the healing spell infused arrow hit its head. The Frost Wyrm roared and was staggered by the healing spell. The wyrm's head got immolated by the holy magic. As the Wyrm squirmed, it began to lose altitude, the dwarven riflemen opened fire again but this time they didn't miss. The dwarven riflemen witted down the Wyrm then it crashed on the trees, dead.

Arthas quickly rushed towards Sylvanas and casted Holy Light on her but she was still moaning in pain.

"Argh, it…it didn't do anything." She said while grimacing in pain.

Arthas was shocked that his spell didn't have any effect on her. "Oh no, has the light abandoned us? The light doesn't heal!" he said worryingly.

Cicero approached and crouched down. He looked at Arthas. "Maybe your healing light is the same as mine. Mine fixes wounds and restore damaged body parts."  
Cicero took out his dagger and ran its blade on his palm.

"By the light! What are you doing?" said Arthas.

"Go on, cast your healing on me, see if it closes." He said extending his bleeding hand.

Arthas casted Holy Light on him – the wound closed.

Cicero turned his attention back at Sylvanas "Hmm. Ah, Sylvanas I think you may have a dislocated ankle. I'm going to have to manually put it back together."

"Damn, we should have brought some mages with us. You go tend to her. I'll go heal the downed Gyrocopter Pilots." Said Arthas before taking his leave.

"Of course, I'll go join you after." He said then looked at Sylvanas's leg.

He untied her laces, removed her boot and casted a very mild paralysis on her foot as he mended her. The procedure was painless and didn't hurt the elf one bit.

He casted healing on her to fix some damaged muscles from the paralysis and the manual realigning.

"Ooo, that tickles." She giggled.

"Still not used to it huh?" he said as he casted. "There, try to move it if it still hurts."

She moved her foot - She felt no pain. "I think it's alright now. Nope no pain at all."

He smiled and casted healing again to tickle her.

She giggled. "Stop it" she said in a playful tone.

After the two had their inuendo, Sylvanas and Cicero joined Arthas who was already healing some of the dwarven gyrocopter pilots who survived their respective crashes. They were hastily recovered by the riflemen as soon as the frost Wyrm was taken care of. The Price casted Holy light while Cicero helped by casting his restoration spells.

Because of his frequent use of healing, he had honed his restoration magic skills and as a result, healing didn't drain out his Magicka as quickly as before. He can now heal himself and others with half the magicka cost. His alteration and illusion magic skills greatly improved due to him always using _Paralysis_ and _Invisibility_ during battle and using _Clairvoyance_ to navigate and search. Most importantly, his archery skills had improved exponentially and he can now infuse arrows with spells.

Captain Falric, Marwyn, and Muradin Bronzebeard stayed behind in the basecamp to defend it because the bulk of Lordaeron's army and supplies were there. Fortunately, they didn't need to defend from anything and now they were waiting for instructions from the assault team lead by the prince.

"Cicero." Called Arthas.

"Yes sir?" Replied Cicero who was casting healing on some knights.

He walked towards him. As he went closer, Cicero turned to look at him – his pale features he saw in him in daggercap bay had returned and his eyes had a faint blue colour to it.

"How many more undead bases are there to the west?"

"Uh…" he can't help but notice his change in features. "Of course." He casted Clairvoyance and studied the clairvoyant path as he casted. "Well, I'm not sure as to how many, but it's safe to say there will be fierce resistance as we go further west."

"Okay, I'll head to our main basecamp on the south. You and Sylvanas will take charge of our men here. Set camp for the night because I might not come back until tomorrow."

"Yes sir." He said. He then looked at him with a concerned expression. "Sire, are you…alright? You look rather pale."

"Oh really? Well, I haven't noticed."

"Maybe you're just cold." He said then casted magelight and placed it above Arthas's head. "There" he said then smiled at him. His pale skin slowly started to turn yellowish brown again which was his normal skin tone.

"Wow, that feels warm. Thanks!" he said. "Well, I need to get going now."

"Be careful, sire. Light be with you." said Cicero.

Arthas replied with a nod then took his leave. Cicero watched the prince head into the woods with 5 knights and 5 riflemen. The magelight ball hovered above him as he walked.

.

.

Later at dusk.

Arthas and Muradin were inside eating dinner. As they ate, they discussed about what their respective businesses in Northrend were.

"Muradin, what are you doing up here anyway?" Asked Arthas.

"Well, lad. There's an ancient way gate that lies somewhere in this glacial wasteland. Supposedly, it transports you to a hidden vault where a runeblade named _Frostmourne _is held" he said then took a swig of dwarven ale.

The magelight Cicero casted on the prince still hovered above his head, both of them feeling its warmth. Arthas listened closely as he was stuffing his face with steak.

"Woah, slow down there… anyway. We came here to recover Frostmourne, but the closer we came to finding the way gate, the more undead we encountered." Said Muradin then stuffed his mouth.

Arthas finished chewing his food before speaking.

"Well, I'm here to hunt down a Dreadlord named Mal'Ganis."

"Dreadlord, huh? The Nathrezim demons. So, they have returned. They haven't been heard of for thousands of years." Said Muradin.

"Yes, Mal'Ganis spread a plague in eastern Lordaeron. Commanded a necromancer Kel'Thuzad to establish a cult to infect the grains of Andorhal.

"Kel'Thuzad?" asked Muradin with surprise.

"Yes, do you know him?"

"He is a mage senator, a member of the Kirin Tor's council of six."

"The Council of Wizards of Dalaran?

"Indeed. Anyway, the dreadlords are masters of Dark Magic and Mind Magic. Almost 3000 years before the first war, the dreadlords spread a plague all across dalaran. Thankfully, the guardians of Tirisfall banished them… or him… or it. It was said that the dalaran plague was done by just a single dreadlord." He said then drank more ale.

"Well, I will not underestimate him then." He sighed. "But we will still kill him and bring forth justice."

"You're really passionate about this, are you?"

"How could I not? Especially after I witnessed what he's done to my people. If he'd done that to IronForge, I think you'd be balls to the walls going after his undead arse." He said coldly. "Not only that, he tried to kill Jaina, my Jaina."

Muradin pursed his lips momentarily. "How about this, I'll help you kill that dreadlord, and then let's find Frostmourne. After that, we can all go home."

"Sounds good." Said the prince then drank a cup of ale.

.

.

Cicero and Sylvanas sat on a log near a firepit away from the soldiers who just erected their tents and were now resting. The two were roasting fish skewered on stick as they conversed. The Magelight above their head provided additional warmth and lighting.  
The elf was sitting beside him close, closer than she would have usually had.

"Thank you for saving me awhile back." Sylvanas said.

"Oh, don't mention it, it's just standard operating procedures."

"That dragon though, it's not like anything I've ever seen before."

"I thought that was a 'wyvern'."

Sylvanas chuckled. "No, dragons have 4 legs, wyverns have two." She said laughingly.

"Oh, well, those 'dragons' we fought and killed in Skyrim were wyverns then." He sighed "Nords."

"What were the dragons in Skyrim like? Uhm I mean…wyverns."

"Makes no difference, the Nords call them dragons anyway. The Listener and I used to kill scores of them. They were highly intelligent majestic creatures, they don't breathe fire or ice, they speak them."

"Speak them?" she asked.

"Yes, I hear a deep chant whenever I get blasted by a stream of fire or ice…"

"_Anar'alah Belore! _Your fish is burning." The elf exclaimed pointing at his fish.

"By Arkay's light!" he said as he pulled the fish away from the fire.

"What are you…" Sylvanas then laughed at him loudly when she saw him** instinctively casting healing on the burnt fish**. "You're healing the fish?"

"Yes, it's restoration magic after all. It's just not healing, it should be restoring… nope, doesn't work." He stopped casting and suddenly felt stupid. "No wonder we only use them on living and undead." The fish didn't revert back into its raw state.

"I can share you mine."

"It's alright, I'll just…" he casted transmutation on the burnt fish and magically turned it into a sweetroll.

Sylvanas sighed. "Seeing that sweetroll reminds of the plague campaign." She said, her face turned from amused to saddened. Her long elven ears pointed back.

"Nathanos was a brave honorable man. It should have been me who died in there, not him." He said then took a bite at his sweetroll.

"We can't reverse the past, it's just what it is. The only logical thing to do is to move on." She said then began to eat her fish. The fish tasted bad.

Cicero saw her grimace as she chowed on the fish. "Doesn't taste good eh?"

Sylvanas spat. "Are Northrend fish undead too? These things taste horrible."

Cicero then turned Sylvanas's fish into a Sweetroll. They both ate silently by the fire. After that, he opened his knapsack looking for his journal. Sylvanas suddenly felt uneasy and began to blush. She stood up.

"Cicero, I think I'm feeling light headed. I…I must retire to bed…goodnight." She said.

"Of course, do you need…" As Cicero turned to her, she was gone and was hastily walking towards the encampment. "Hmm, that was weird."

He found his journal beside the wooden Guar statue inside the bag. He took out the Guar and saw that it was painted, colorfully: The Guar's lips were painted pink and the eyes painted white. There were drawings of flowers and badly drawn heart shapes all over the guar's body, and the claws on its limbs were painted red just like the nail polish Sylvanas had on her nails.  
He reached for his journal, took it out, then rested it on the log. He reached for his quill and ink bottle and placed them on the ground. When he opened the journal to the last log entry, he saw handwritings that weren't his. He read it:

_Cicero, I accidentally held your bag at the bottom and somehow, the contents were spilled.  
None of your belongings got wet though. Unfortunately, me and the mages were too curious._  
_I read through your journal. It says in your cover 'Do not read or open. If your name is Sylvanas  
Windrunner, it's totally fine'. Well, I read it. I really hope to The Light that you really don't mind at  
all. Don't worry, some of your secrets are safe with me. Also, while we were washing dishes, the  
mages took turns admiring your woodcarving. Some of them even drew on it to make it cuter. I read  
through your poems and my favourites were 'Windrunner' and 'The Guar with long limbs'.  
_

Cicero noticed that the page had drops of moisture on it. He continued reading:

_Cicero, I really thought it was sweet of you to make a poem for me, and reading through it made my  
heart warm, but also made my heart heavy. I'm sorry if your journal has some wet spots. That's  
because my tears fell on it. The Windrunner name is of high status in Quel'Thalas and all around the  
kingdoms of the Alliance. You know, marriage among the nobility is scrutinized. I was betrothed to  
Kael'Thas Sunstrider by the king but I turned it down because at the time, I really liked Nathanos and  
Kael is an immature jerk._

He flipped to the next page. What he read were hitting him hard in the feels.

_If me and Nathanos were to be in a relationship, then the whole of Quel'Thalas would frown on us  
because he wasn't of noble blood. I was frustrated so I kept our relationship to strictly business only.  
Overtime, I lost all romantic feelings for him. One day, he came out and told me how he felt. I coldly  
ditched him and told him to focus on his duties as a ranger and never ever speak to me again about  
such things. Now, Nathanos is gone, but you have filled the gap he left behind. I am now faced with  
the same predicament I had before with him. But with your case, not only are you not of noble blood,  
but you also told me you grew up as a serf and lived your life as an assassin. Being in a relationship  
with you will be too risky and if word comes out who you really are, then the Windrunner name will be  
compromised. I tell you, Cicero. I don't know what to do. But one thing is certain and I cannot deny:_

_I cannot change what my heart feels, what my heart longs, and what it lusts for. __**Cicero, I love you too.  
**__If I am the moon and stars to your night, then come to me and tell me with utmost sincerity that you  
meant what you wrote._

The log ends. He closed the journal and hastily gathered up his writing materials then put them back inside his bag. He walked into the encampment and saw some Knights gathered up around a fire cooking a hunk of venison on a spit. Cicero approached them.

"Hello mighty knights of Lordaeron. Did you happen to see Lady Windrunner? Is she inside the tents?"

"Yes, and no, Mister Cicero. We saw her walking alone towards the woods, we asked her where she was going but didn't say anything." Said one of the knights.

"Oh no."

"She could be in danger. We'll accompany you with finding her." He said then grabbed hold of his billhook.

"No, I know what this is about. I can find her myself. Please, as you were." He commanded.

"Aye sir!" said the knight then saluted him before returning to his leisure.

He casted clairvoyance and saw her location was far off from the encampment within the dark canopy of trees not far to the west. Fortunately, the clairvoyant path wasn't moving.

He quickly sprinted towards her location with stealth and muffled movement so he won't spook her. When he finally got there, he saw a cave. He casted _detect life_ and saw a blue figure within the cave sitting in a corner with her knees up. He casted _chameleon_ and stealthily entered the cave. He saw her sitting in a corner with her head down, her arms embracing her knees. Her long pointed elven ears pointed back which Cicero observed whenever she felt sad.  
Sylvanas couldn't hear him approaching because he has muffled movement as he sneaked.

All of a sudden, Sylvanas felt the warmth of Cicero's Magelight spell. The odd sensation made her look up – she saw him standing in front of her, silent. She stood up slowly and looked at him in his hazel eyes.

"Sylvanas, it's all true." Said Cicero.

"It's just that…"

"Not now." He cut her off by caressing her face and raising her chin.

He closed his eyes and leaned close. Sylvanas closed her own eyes as the two's lips touch and their tongues entwined. His arms embraced her while Sylvanas ran the palm of her left hand on his chest and her right on his hair.

After they kissed, Cicero removed his shirt and put out the magelight. That night, **they made love**…passionate love. Even though they didn't know how to have sex (because most of their lives were spent on fighting) their drive, their vigor, their passion, and their love for one another made it a pleasant and unforgettable experience of ecstasy.

_._

_._

_._

**To be continued.  
I know Sylvanas' character in the whole story is way off but it's safe to speculate that her personality when she was alive was different from her being undead. Right?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Desperate Times.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Cicero woke up. The magelight he conjured after they made love last night still hovered above them while they laid. He was laying sideways beside Sylvanas. His left arm wrapped around the elf's waist as she slept on her right side. She felt warm to the touch as he was feeling her soft but toned stomach inflate and deflate as she breathed. Her uncombed blonde hair close to his nose smelt like _Dragon's Tongue_ \- a yellow fragrant flower native to the outskirts of Whiterun hold. He slowly removed his arm from her waist and got up.  
His clothes were piled up to one side together with Sylvanas' Armour. He quietly and gently took his clothes and put them on so as to not make noise and not to rudely wake her. He looked outside the cave and saw it was blueish dark. Cicero realized it was past midnight and they needed to go back to the encampment and continue their sleep in their tents so as to not rouse suspicion about their intimacy. He thought they'll just return to the encampment and continue their slumber there.

He sat on a rock watching the elf sleep. As he did, he thought about how he forgot about the entire apocalypse prophecy of Medivh. It was Sylvanas's beauty that lead him off track: his attraction to her, his promise to Nathanos of protecting her, and his lust for her love and touch. He cursed himself for a moment then realized it was all his fault and it was all _his decision_ to allow himself to stray away from his mission. Something suddenly came to mind: his dream and Medivh's mentioning of the runeblade. The sword he saw in his dream, the sword his statue held with the Blade of Woe on his other hand, could that be the runeblade itself? He thought.

If that was the runeblade Medivh talked about, then Arthas must take the blade and not him, or better yet - no one at all for good measure. In the dream, Cicero and Sylvanas lead the undead army called _The Forsaken_ in taking over the whole of Azeroth, and the sword had something to do with it. Sylvanas also told him that she had a similar dream herself about them leading the undead army, but with hers, she saw him and her killing and raising the people of Lordaeron and Quel'thalas into undead. Both of the dreams they experienced showed him wielding a blade that had a goat's skull on it.  
Could this dream the doings of Vaermina? this would never be true, it's just a dream he thought. Vaermina's nightmare induction doesn't have any reach in Azeroth because the Daedra is in another universe. As for the blade he saw in the dream, if that is indeed the runeblade itself, it's going to go three ways: Arthas will wield the blade and bring forth the apocalypse, Arthas will use it to prevent the aforementioned chaos, and lastly, Cicero himself will take it and bring forth chaos by being an undead equivalent to Tiber Septim – the man who conquered all of Tamriel.  
He also took into account what the dreadlord Mal'ganis said to him after their fight atop the monastic tower in Stratholme where the Nathrazeim told him to tell Arthas to meet him in Northrend and that it is where his and Arthas's true destiny will unfold. What destiny? Death? He thought to himself.

His pondering was done and he then decided to wake Sylvanas up. Cicero crawled atop the sleeping elf on all fours and kissed from her waist side to her neck.

"Hmmph?" she moaned from the amorous awakening. She put her hand on her stomach to check if his arm was still wrapped around it.

"It's morning already, but it's till dark. We need to go back to the encampment because they might be looking for us." He said then kissed her again on the neck.

Sylvanas laid on her back and grabbed Cicero by the hair to pull him close then kissed him on the mouth.

"Sylvanas… we… we need to go." He said struggling to speak whilst they were exploring each other's mouths.

"Alright already." She said playfully, her hands still holding his hair. "Come now, help me put my armour on." She kissed him on the nose before getting up.

Cicero gathered up her apparel and helped her put them on. He tightened the laces of her boots. He laced her gauntlets on her arms. As he was fastening the strap for her quiver, he noticed her long ears pointed back which he knew by now was a sign of melancholy.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Cicero, what we just had was amazing, it's actually my first time. But I know you read what I wrote in your diary about…you know, the political intrigue about marriages and what not."

"It's no different among the nobility in Tamriel, especially in High Rock and Hammerfell – Nobles must only marry nobles, yes?"

Sylvanas pursed her lips for a moment then spoke "If the high elves ever knew of our intimacy together with your history as an assassin, then they would think I disgraced the Windrunner name. And I will be punished for it and…and you will too."

Cicero was done fastening her quiver. He then wrapped his arms on her waist behind her. His breathing tickled her neck, her rear pressing against his crotch as he held her.

"I may not be yours tomorrow, but at least… I _was_ yours. I'll be happy to die right now knowing you were mine even for a brief moment in time, than to live forever knowing you were not mine at all."

She gently broke free from his hold and turned to face him. Her blue eyes, teary just like Cicero's hazel ones "Oh Cicero." She said then pulled him tightly and kissed him. Both savored every second of this moment for they might never taste each other's lips again.

.

.

**In silvermoon palace.**

Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider had just arrived home from Dalaran and was sitting beside a long dining table opposite to his father, King Anasterian Sunstrider. The Prince wore a red armoured cape adorned with gold inserts, metal heraldries, and 2 segmented pauldrons. His skin, pale yellow just like his hair, his eyes, green.  
The old man who sat opposite to him looked like an exact copy or clone of the young price except that his hair is white and his face has visible creases on his forehead. The king wore a circlet crown and a full set of silver and gold coloured plate armour. The two were eating breakfast silently until King Anasterian brought up Sylvanas Windrunner.

"Ranger general Sylvanas Windrunner has not returned yet, any idea as to why? The quarantine had been over almost a week ago." asked the aged elven king knowing the fact that the last of the Lordaeron and Dalaran quarantine team had returned home.

Kael'thas finished chewing and swallowed his food before replying. "Father, I was about to tell you: she… she went with Arthas to Northrend."

The King's brows furrowed in surprise followed by an awkward silence. The elven king reached for a goblet and drank swig of wine. He then smirked at his son. "Is that why you've been quiet since last night you came home? You're worried that she fell for Arthas?" said the king and chuckled.

His son didn't reply. "All jokes aside…" the king continued "…She has violated my authority: She's supposed to come back after aiding Prince Arthas with his campaign concerning the plague. And she should have reported her findings to me when it's finished. In other words – she's absent without leave as we speak."

"Please don't punish her too hard, Father." The Prince said.

The king toyed with his small soul patch on his chin. "Sylvanas sometimes lets her emotions get the best of her…whatever her reasons were for going there with him…"

"Nathanos and her forces got killed in action" Kael'thas said.

"By the light…Those were Quel'thalas's best" his brows furrowed again, the creases on his forehead and face became visible. "I knew aiding King Terenas was a bad idea." He muttered angrily.

Kael'thas felt rage building up in his Father's aura. "Father… please, don't blame this on King Terenas or Arthas. We are a part of The Alliance for a reason, we…"

But before the Prince can finish his sentence, a sudden knock on the door echoed through the room. The soldiers never interrupt the king during times like these unless there is an urgent matter to attend to. The King and the Prince got alerted and wondered what it could be.

"Kael'thas, go get the door." Ordered the king.

The prince nodded and hastily went to the door. When he opened, he was greeted by 2 Elfgate guards and an elven ranger. They were accompanied by a familiar elf - Lor'themar Theron, Sylvanas Windrunner's second in command during the second war.

"Lor'thermar, I'm just going to guess that there's something worth interfering breakfast for. Now, is there something to report?" asked Kael.

Lor'themar spoke. "Sire, you need to come quickly. The Ranger corps have stumbled upon a strange object in the outskirts of the city near a troll encampment. The trolls were fighting over it and the rangers were about to engage and…"

"And why didn't they!" The prince shouted, unintentionally sprinkling saliva on the elf.

Lor'themar winced but continued. "Sire, it's in their standard operating procedures to report to Ranger General Windrunner before engaging…"

"Well, I'm the acting Ranger general right now and they should have engaged them on sight!" he shouted at him again.

"Pardon me, Sire but you should have said that to us prior to taking office and…"

"Shut up!" he shouted. He turned to an elven ranger "This…object, what does it look like?"

"Sire, it looked like a scroll or some kind… **a golden scroll**. The trolls were fighting over it and I noticed all of them can't seem to lift the thing."

"As acting ranger general of Quel'thalas, I command you to kill the trolls and sack their camp. After which, call on me so I can examine the thing, alright?" he said with authority.

"Yes, Prince Kael'thas." Said the elves then curtseyed before taking their leave.

.

.

**Meanwhile in Northrend.**

Mal'ganis was grinning as he stood atop a tree watching his undead horde prepare to attack Arthas's basecamp. The Allaince's defenses and ranged units looked very formidable even at their unprepared state but Mal'ganis was confidently sure that it will be only a matter of time before they will eventually run out of steam and get overwhelmed. The dreadlord massed an army numbered by the thousands: ghouls, abominations, crypt fiend spiders, gargoyles, and even dozens of undead skeletal dragons – frost wyrms.

"Ah, Arthas, you have arrived." He said then laughed in excitement, looking at the doomed basecamp.

Mal'ganis had lured Arthas into a trap: Arthas's assault team temporarily under Cicero's command is stationed far away to the west, oblivious of the undead army's presence near the main base. With Arthas' best soldiers far of reach, his base is now undermanned and unprepared for the siege about to happen.

.

.

Arthas's plan for the day was to fortify the main base first and when they were done, he'll take his assault team who are under Cicero's care at the moment, to hunt down Mal'ganis. Prince Arthas and Captain Falric were setting up the fortifications for the encampment. Muradin Bronzebeard temporarily allowed his dwarven troops to obey orders from Arthas and were told to set up makeshift pillboxes for riflemen, mages, and mortar teams on top of the mountain behind. For the main walls, the men erected wooden poles planted on the ground lined up. Behind the walls were wooden scaffoldings that will serve as platforms for the ranged units to stand on when they will shoot at incoming threats. All the men were hard at work even Prince Arthas himself who was helping saw away some material on the walls to make crenellations. The defensive strategy focused a lot on the roles of the ranged units as the primary line of defense and the melee units being the secondary.

Muradin Bronzebeard and Arthas took a short break after cutting poles for with their crosscut saws. Both sat inside a tent beside a table, drinking tea. Muradin can't help but notice Arthas toying with the pendant hanging on his neck and the fact that he has never taken it off since he arrived. Arthas's sweat ran from his neck to the chains of the necklace and down to the bezel. Muradin also noticed the necklace had gold and amethyst on it which was indicative of Jaina Proudmoore's favourite colours - he then remembered the necklace was Jaina Proudmoore's.

"Arthas, boy-oh. You know… it's been nearly a decade since you two had to call it quits. Why not move on already?"

Arthas stopped toying with the locket, took a sip of tea and before replying. "Muradin, it's not out of melancholy that I keep this…" He smiled. "…But out of love – this is Jaina's locket, it contains her image. I look at her whenever I feel down." He said, opening it staring at it for a few seconds in silence before closing it.

Muradin looked at him in pity and let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, Arthas boy-oh." He looked outside for a moment then turned back to face him "You know… Sylvanas Windrunner seems to be a nice lass and very pretty too, after this is all over maybe you should…uh… you know."

Arthas looked at him, surprised by his expression and chuckled "Muradin, it's not that I miss her… well yes I do now but it's not the way you think I am. And no, Sylvanas Windrunner will not be on my hit list."

Muradin's left brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, lad?"

"We're back together, me and Jaina." He said with a smirk on his face.

Muradin reacted by expressing a wide smile then followed by a loud laugh. "I knew it lad, I just knew it!" he said in excitement. "You two should…"

Their heart to heart conversation was interrupted by the sudden sound of loud bangs of artillery, rockets and rifle fire. Both of them grabbed their weapons and quickly head out to see what was happening. When they got out of the tent, they saw thick smoke, white smoke accompanied by the smell of burning gunpowder. They could hear the loud bangs of cannons and rifles, the murmuring of the mages as they recited spells and hurled destructive balls of magical energy towards the targets outside the walls.

Through the white smoke, Arthas saw Captain Falric running towards him.

"Captain, what the hell is happening?" shouted Arthas.

The captain halted when he got close enough "We've got hostiles, sire. The scouts from the mountain started shooting, then the rest followed." He shouted.

"Okay, where are my knights?"

"Not far, sir. They are standing in attention waiting for orders. Follow me, I'll take you to them."

Arthas nodded to the captain then turned to Muradin.

"Muradin, are you going to join us in the melee or command your dwarves?"

"Me dwarves can handle their own. I would love to fight alongside you, Arthas." Said the dwarf then smiled.

Arthas nodded. "Follow me then, old friend."

When they met with the knights, Arthas commanded captain Falric to get in position among them. He then reached for his tome fastened to his belt and opened it. The paladin began to read some holy scriptures and chanted a spell to give his men The Light's protection – Devotion aura.  
As Arthas was doing his chanting, Muradin Bronzeberd saw the the knights were standing erect in attention: not moving a muscle amidst all the commotion. The dwarf was amazed by the level of discipline Lordaeron's knights showed despite the loud banging of firearms and the threat of battle.  
After the paladin finished the chanting, Muradin felt strong surges of adrenaline, strong feelings of hope and inspiration – they were all under the influence of The Light's protection, Devotion Aura.

Arthas closed his tome and looked at his men. "Men, mighty knights of Lordaeron! Are you ready?" he shouted.

The men responded with loud roars as they raised their halberds, spears, and billhooks.

.

.

.

The High elven rangers have killed the trolls surrounding the object. After the rangers and elfgate guards killed the trolls, they have reported to prince Kel'thas that the coast is clear. The prince then ordered the rangers and guards to sack the troll basecamp and slaughter everyone: man, woman or child including their pet Kodo Beasts.

"What on earth is that? a scroll? They were fighting over that?" asked Kael'thas looking at the object surrounded by 20 troll corpses.

The scroll was in a small crater the size of a fox hole for Dwarven mortar team nests.

"Yes sire. We saw them having some sort of a competition on who could lift the thing." Said one of the guards.

"Well then. How about you try and give it a go." Said the prince to the guard.

"As you command, your grace."

The guard stabbed his polearm to the ground and approached the object. He walked on the troll corpses as he got closer and looked at the object: it was gold coloured, had large ornate knurls, had sapphire gems, and strange symbols around the thing. He went down on one knee and held the scroll on both of its ends. When he tried to raise it, didn't even move. He tried again and again with tighter grips and with more force on his legs and back – nothing, not even a millimeter of movement as it still rested on the crater. Kael'thas gestured another guard with a heavier build to help him out but when they tried to lift it, it went the same way – the object didn't move.

"Milord, we can't. It's like this thing is welded on the ground or something." Said one of them whilst panting.

"Get out of there, I'll lift it myself." Said Kael'thas and waved the men to get out his way.

He channeled some of his mana into a levitation spell and raised both of his arms to concentrate on the scroll to try and lift it. Kael'thas's magical prowess far exceeds those of Quel'thalas's mage army and he knows that fact so he adamantly believes he can lift the thing with ease.

"Pay close attention, men. This is how it's done" he said in a smug tone. When he tried to raise the scroll from the ground, the thing still didn't move. "What the hell?" he exclaimed in surprise.

2 rangers and the 2 guards rushed in to help by trying to lift each end of the scroll in unison while the prince tried to raise it with levitation. The prince was keeping at it but his mana was burning slowly and was running out. Even his whole body was getting fatigued.

After some time, even with the combined lifting power of 4 elves and the godlike arcane power of the master mage, the scroll did not move one bit.

"Fuck this shit!" shouted the prince in frustration after his mana completely burned out. He then bent over, took a rock from the ground and threw it at the scroll.

"I need answers as to where this thing had come from, and if it is a scroll, then I want to know what's written on it." Said the prince.

"Maybe we could get someone from Dalaran to help out identify this thing." Said one of the guards.

From a distance, they heard a man's voice. "Sire… I happen to know something."

A male voice sounded from behind the prince. Kael'thas and the men turned and saw a robed elf who looked to have belonged to one of the magisters of silvermoon judging from the heraldries on his robe.

"Dar'Kan Drathir. Magister, why aren't you in the healing chambers?" asked the prince.

"Sire, please. I do have some information regarding… the object." Dar'khan said in a smug tone as he approached the men.

"Do you know where this is from?" asked Kael.

"Unfortunately, no. But there are official classified daily reports logged by Lor'themar that I'm certain may be linked to the scroll. Something about a certain… visitor ranger general Sylvanas Windrunner took in. Milord, please. These are classified information: we need to speak of this someplace else. "

Kael'thas's brows furrowed momentarily and then he turned to the men. "I want this object to be placed under intensive care. Build a makeshift observatory over it so the Convocations of Silvermoon can further study it." He said with authority.

He turned to Dar'khan Drathir. "Summon Lor'themar Theron and get all necessary documents logged on that day the 'visitor' was taken in, then met meet me at Silvermoon palace."

"Yes sire, I'll go with haste right away." Said Dar'khan then hurried to take his leave entering the elven gate.

.

.

.

From a far distance Arthas could make out Mal'ganis' figure atop a tree. This made him get excited but he was smart enough to not go charging at him because he wasn't in the position to do so yet. In fact, he and his army were still sitting ducks against Mal'ganis' undead army of unknown numbers.

"Mal'ganis is with them! I can see him from here!" Shouted arthas

"Stick close together and let them get close to the walls!" shouted Arthas as his steel wall of knights were bracing themselves for another wave of ghouls and undead spiders attacking.

Muradin turned to look one of the riflemen behind the wall up in the crenels. The rifleman was firing as fast as he could. He shouted at riflemen. "How many are there?"

"About a few hundred, sir!" he said then took aim and fired.

"By the light! Take out as many as you can before they come at us, aye?" exclaimed Muradin.

"Aye!" replied the rifleman then shot his rifle.

The combined forces of Lordaeron's knights and armoured artillery, Ironforge's riflemen, and Dalaran's mages were barely holding the waves of undead. They were fighting hard continuously non-stop since the fighting began in the morning. The surprise attack was detrimental to them because they did not have time to be fed. Despite all that, they were still fighting to the best of their abilities because of Arthas's holy aura and their resilient morale. But still he knew they were fighting on borrowed time.  
The troops haven't had their breakfast yet and all of them were hungry and their energies were running out. Little by little, Arthas's army were receiving casualties as the fight rages on. He had already lost 14 riflemen and 10 mages from spider projectiles.

They could hear the undead wave approach. The ghouls were screaming and running amok charging towards Arthas and his knights. Some of the undead fell to the riflemen's bullets and the mage's elemental projectiles but the undead wave showed no sign of deterrence.

"Get ready!" shouted Muradin. The knights held their polearms tight and readjusted their stances.

Before they knew it, the first wall of knights collided with the undead wave. Plenty of undead were skewered at first contact with the knights' polearms. The other formation of knights behind them began thrusting their polearms at the pursuing undead to aid the men in the front. The walls of knights were alternating with their thrusting making the killing continuous.

After some time, the undead wave was destroyed, but there was no time to celebrate because they knew they were going to fend off another one. While they were repositioning and the tired knights were getting replaced by fresh ones on the back, they heard a faint but familiar sound within the trees to their left – the roars of siege engines from their west flank. Their assault team, temporarily under Cicero's command have come back to the main base to join the fight.

"Finally! Reinforcements!" shouted the riflemen shooting from behind the crenels.

"I knew they would come." Arthas whispered looking at the direction of the engine sounds. He was relieved that his assault team have come to the rescue but he knew the sounds of siege engines when they are close or not, and the reinforcements are still a few hundred meters away.

Suddenly, the joyous thought of getting helped got replaced by sudden fear when another familiar sound echoed from afar – the terrifying roar of the Frost Wyrm, the undead dragon they fought yesterday.

"What in the hell is that?"

"Stay focused, men! A Wyvern is coming!" shouted Arthas to his men. "Riflemen! When you see something big in the sky, keep firing at it with all you got!"

The roaring of the Frost Wyrm was heard again followed by the grunting of ghouls and undead spiders. As the Alliance's forces were getting ready, Arthas hoped and silently prayed that the assault team would come in time just before the Frost Wyrms come.

"By the Light! There! Here it comes!" shouted Muradin when he saw a frost Wyrm take flight from the far distant canopy of trees and flying towards them. Their roaring, bloody and grotesque.

There was one frost wyrms accompanied by a hundred ghouls and spiders charging towards their base. With the Assault team's aid still far way, Arthas knew his forces would have to fend them off on their their own for the time being.  
From yesterday's battle, he saw Cicero infuse an arrow with his healing spell and hit the frost wyrm, making it squirm and loose altitude before the riflemen witted it down. Arthas does have healing abilities and he knew they were much more potent than Cicero's and that for him meant he himself can significantly help in killing the wyverns. One problem though: Cicero used an infused arrow on the beast, Arthas on the other hand can only cast them at a reachable distance.

The undead horde came charging. The mortar teams within the walls launched explosive shells on the running undead – scores of ghouls and spiders died but again, the undead wave was still undeterred. The ghouls smashed against Arthas and his lines of knights but they were quickly dispatched by the alternating thrusts of the knights' polearms and Arthas and Muradin's enchanted weapons.

The riflemen, mages and all ranged units of Arthas's defending army opened fire all of the sudden, the loud bangs crackles of magic were almost deafening. Arthas looked up at the sky and saw the frost wyrm flying towards their base. The thing roared and dived down, it opened its mouth and puffed a stream of frost air and icicles and hit a large infantry of mages and riflemen – all of them froze solid, dead. The frost wyrm's diving momentum was still dragging the beast down.

Arthas, whilst fighting in the melee, took this opportunity to attack it and with all of his mana. He casted Holy Light on the frost wyrm - The sky opened and a light from the heavens lit the undead dragon. The Frost Wyrm roared as the holy light lit its entire body, killing it instantly and vaporizing it. The light was so intense even the undead wave who were within the radius of the light, too were vaporized. The Alliance's army shielded their eyes to avoid getting blinded. When the sky closed, the men looked around and saw undead bodies and ashes littered the ground. Muradin then noticed Arthas was slumped down and was panting. He quickly rushed to his aid.

"Arthas, boy oh. Are you alright?"

"Y…yes. I just… lost all my mana. I just feel really drained out."

"Well, lad. You killed it! you killed that undead monstrosity!" said Muradin.

"Yes… thank the light." Said Arthas, still tired.

"Here, let me help you up" As Muradin was helping him get back up, they were stopped on their track again by the sounds of another roar of a Frost Wyrm.

"Light Preserve us… I can't cast another one, I'm all out of mana." said the prince, still tired and worn out from spending all of his mana.

There were more roaring heard and when they looked to the far distant trees, they saw 3 frost wyrms fly up into the sky. The knights got into position again and readied themselves.  
The ranged units, even though reduced from the Frost Wyrm attack, still were determined to fight and prepared themselves for another wave.

The frost wyrms were flying towards the basecamp as fast as they can. As the undead dragons were closing in, the ranged units opened fire. Even with that, the frost wyrms were too high and too fast. The dragons were by now got close enough and were encircling the basecamp. Arthas's army were sitting ducks at that point.

"Keep firing with all you got!" shouted Muradin to his dwarves. He turned to the tired prince. "Arthas, let me get you inside."

"No, Muradin. I can fight. I just need a Mana potion."

Muradin sighed and nodded but was amazed by Arthas's show of battle and magical prowess. Most importantly, he thought the 24-year-old prince showed great resilience and leadership – the qualities of a dependable king just like his father, Terenas II.

Muradin shouted "Mages, we need Mana Potions!"

Suddenly, one of the dragons dived down towards the stationed scouts on the mountain, the dragon roared, breathed frost and blasted a mortar team within a makeshift pillbox and an infantry of riflemen in a foxhole. The all froze to death from the cryogenic attack. The dragon then flew up then joined the other encircling frost wyrm ready for another assault. Another dragon dived down and breathed frost with intent to inflict death. Some riflemen and mages taking cover behind crenels and 3 mortar teams on the ground got cryogenically killed by the blast. The dragons flew back up afterwards.

One of the mages, upon hearing Muradin, hurried to the supply crates and took 5 potions then gave them to the prince, not even caring if the icicles on the ground pierced her foot. Arthas drank all of them greedily. Arthas's energy slowly rejuvenated and got his mana restored to full. He then healed the mage before she went back to fight.

Arthas's exhausted, tired and hungry army were battling 3 frost wyrms in the air and a wave of ghouls and spiders on the ground. They needed help really bad.

"Muradin, join the knights in the melee, I'll go on an elevated position to get close to them as I can."

Muradin nodded in reply.

As Arthas was climbing up the scaffolding to get to the crenelations, he heard the sound of siege engines down below followed by a crackling arrow fly by. He looked at the circling dragons and saw a yellow projectile move in a helical path towards one of the frost wyrms and miss. Arthas was elated at the sight of this because this is one of Cicero's healing infused arrows. He hastily climbed the ladder of the scaffolding and reached the platform where the riflemen were behind the merlons and crenels. He looked down to where the knights were holding position and saw the convoy of his assault team from the west move towards their base. He saw Cicero and Sylvanas on top of one of the siege engines. Cicero was aiming his bow upward while Sylvanas Windrunner was helping the knights by shooting at the undead ground units.

Another sound of crackling projectile was heard and it flew past Arthas. The prince looked up and saw the projectile move in a curvilinear path, this time it hit one of the encircling frost wyrms. The undead dragon roared in agony as the holy magic immolated it. The thin membranes on it wings disintegrated, making it loose altitude fast. The ranged units shot at the thing with all they got. The murmurs of the mages were loud as they casted spells, the riflemen shot lead up the air as fast as they can, and even the mortar teams shot at it. The projectiles hit the frost wyrm with ease and with the exploding shells fired by one of the mortar teams, the dragon's body got dismembered. Its bony parts fell from the sky.  
Another crackling arrow flew in the same manner and hit another frost wyrm in the tail. The dragon roared in pain as it got immolated and then tried to retreat back up but was shot down by barrages of spells, bullets and exploding shells.

Arthas felt a touch on his pauldron. He looked to his left and saw Cicero.

"Reporting for duty."

"Better late than never, buddy." The prince said then bumped fists with the redhead.

"Yeah…look out!" Cicero quickly noticed a frost wyrm's shadow behind them then pushed Arthas aside when the last remaining frost wyrm tried to snatch him with his talons.

The dragon missed Arthas but caught Cicero instead because he put himself in the way.

"Oh, shi…" exclaimed Cicero before he got caught and flown up.

The prince looked up and saw the dragon fly back up in the air.

"Cicero!" he shouted as he saw Cicero get taken away. "Hold your fire!" he commanded to the riflemen and mages so as for them to not shoot Cicero by mistake as they shot at the frost wyrm.

Sylvanas was shooting arrows on top of a siege engine's turret when she heard Cicero scream. She looked up and saw him getting held by the frost wyrm's talons. She saw him cast his armour spell, stoneflesh, as he tried to prevent himself from getting crushed when the dragon's squeezed hard. The elf instantly turned her attention to the frost wyrm and quickly shot arrows at it.

The arrow barrage wasn't hitting the dragon so she went inside the wall and climbed the scaffolding. Up in the platform when she reached it, she saw Arthas standing on an elevated portion of the platform. She noticed that he was missing his maul and saw that it was in just a few feet from where she was standing. What are you doing, Arthas? She thought.

"Hey! Over here! I'm unarmed!" shouted the prince, waving his arm around.

"Arthas, what are you doing!" asked the elf.

"Shoot it when it gets close." He replied,

Arthas continued on with the taunting until the dragon dived down. Arthas expected him to dive down and get him with its mouth - With that he hoped the dragon can get low so he can cast Holy Light close enough. Instead, the dragon opened its mouth as it dived down and was about to puff some icicles at an high altitude.  
Suddenly, Sylvanas heard the dragon scream and saw the dragon's talon ignite in flames – Cicero casted healing on it to stop if from breathing frost on Arthas. The dragon's talon disintegrated and its ashes along with Cicero fell for a good 50 meters and fell on one of the basecamp's tents.

"No!" she screamed. She immediately went down and rushed to his aid.

The restoration spell casted by Cicero burned out the frost wyrm's talons and burned the thin membranes of the creature's wings. The frost wyrm was falling fast and was struggling to keep itself airborne. When the frost wyrm got low enough, Arthas casted Holy Light with all of his mana to maximize the spell's potency: The heavens opened once more and a bright beam of light enveloped the creature.  
As the frost wyrm was getting immolated, it tried to puff frost breath on Arthas but before it could release, it got completely vaporized by the intense holy light.

Arthas was shielding his eyes until the skies closed. The casting drained him again and he dropped down to one knee before collapsing face first on the wooden flooring of the platform. He was dazed and couldn't see straight but could still make out what was happening: he looked down saw Sylvanas frantically calling for medics as she was tending to Cicero who was laying down unmoving on the damaged tent where he fell on; He looked to the left and could see and hear his knights fighting hard in the melee with the undead; He also saw some of the knights die in the melee.  
He realized Jaina was right, Mal'Ganis did lure him and his army into a trap and it will only a matter of time before his forces will be overwhelmed. The undead forces were too many and he knows they could not survive another attack from a frost wyrm: he felt hopeless.

He tried to get up but his knees gave out and he was now laying on his back breathing heavy. He slowly tapped on his chest and felt Jaina's locket. Arthas raised it to where his eyes could see and marveled at its beauty and everything it represents – Jaina's love. A tear fell from the prince's eyes as he caressed her locket. Mental images of her clouded his mind: memories of them riding his horse Invisible when they were teens, memories of their first kiss outside of Dalaran's campus, and the thoughts of them getting married and becoming king and queen of Lordaeron.

"Jaina… I'm sorry, My love… my princess." He sobbed.

He was desperate and needed a game changer… a game changer! Arthas's eyes widened at the thought. He knew now what to do - he needed to find Muradin and get **Frostmourne.**

.

.

.

**To be continued.**

**I apologize for the almost 3 months hiatus, I've been very busy. This was also a very hard chapter to write.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:** **Frostmourne**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The stoneflesh casted by Cicero prevented himself from getting crushed by the frost wyrm when it tried to squeeze and claw into him, but it did not do him any favours when he fell down 50 meters from the air. While he was being carried by the undead dragon, the cold touch from its claws penetrated through his spell armour Stoneflesh and damaged some of his skin tissues overtime as he was being carried, so he needed to cast healing on himself ever so often to fix his wounds. This prevented him from casting restoration magic on the beast sooner. But to put in perspective, it was rather a better choice for him to wait until the dragon was low enough before freeing himself. However, because of his desire to save the prince, he casted healing on the beast as it was about to puff frost breath on Arthas.  
As Cicero was lying down, Sylvanas Windrunner was frantically shouting at him the words "Wake up, wake up". The worried elf checked for vital signs on his chest and arm by looking for a pulse, while doing so, she screamed for any medics or healers to come over and help. But no one came because everyone was busy with the fighting.

"Wake up! Please!" she said while kneeling down beside him. "Cicero. You can heal yourself, right? You're just out of mana, yes?" said the elf and went to satchel to retrieve some Mana Stones – stones that can be orally taken in to restore mana, which are popularly used by high-elven spell casters. She tried to put one mana stone inside Cicero's mouth and close it. Her pleading shouts then turned into desperate wails when she saw blood oozing out from his nose.

Arthas slowly picked himself up and stood up, albeit still on spaghetti legs. Adrenaline rush suddenly pumped in his system when he heard Sylvanas wail while tending to Cicero. He pushed himself to walk as fast as he could and retrieve his maul. He then climbed the ladder down and limped as fast as he could towards them. While doing so, Arthas saw and heard Sylvanas's desperate attempts of reviving him coupled with her agonizingly desperate wails.

Sylvanas then felt a hand on her left shoulder. She turned, looked behind and saw the prince.

"Let me tend to him." He said in a Sympathetic tone.

She nodded with her lips pursed and her ears pointed back. Her eyes were teary and some of her long unkempt blonde hair getting on her face. Arthas could see the level of anxiety and sadness from her face alone.

"Sylvanas, do you still have any Mana Stones? Forgive me, but I'm out."

"Yes, here! Please hurry." The elf hastily reached down her satchel with shaking hands and fished out all her mana stones – 3 of them.

Arthas took them, crushed them with his hand into dust. He then raised the powdered mana stones really close to his nose and inhaled deeply - he snorted them for immediate effects. The mana stones immediately restored his mana to full capacity. He then casted Holy Light on Cicero hoping it will heal him to the point of him waking up and returning to being battle-ready.  
The skies opened once again and a beam of light shone on Cicero. The healing process took place immediately and the cracking of bones can be heard when his broken bones magically mended. Torn flesh, tissues, and his damaged and bleeding lungs mended themselves under the holy magic which also stopped blood oozing from his nose. After a few seconds, the skies closed and the healing process was done. Arthas and the elf then knelt down and checked on him wondering he still has not woken up yet.

"Cicero, wake up." Said the elf, putting one hand on his chest and another on his face, shaking him.

There was no answer, Cicero did not even move – he was in a comatose, still alive but completely unconscious.

"Oh, no…Sylvanas…he's…" Arthas knew Cicero was in a comatose state.

The elf turned to face him. "What? What is it?" she said in an anxiously. Her hands still holding her beloved.

The prince bowed his head. "He's unconscious indefinitely, it might take some time for him to wake up. I'm sorry." He stood up and squeezed her left shoulder. "Come on now, let's take him inside one of the tents."

Sylvanas was feeling devastated but far better feeling than before. Her long elven ears pointed back again before getting helped up by Arthas to stand up. She helped Arthas put Cicero on his arms, gathered his weapons, and followed the prince as he carried him in a lover's carry to a tent. He put Cicero down gently on a bedroll made of sheep's fur and hide.

"Is there anything we can do?" she asked while she knelt beside Cicero.

"I'm sorry, there's not much we can do but wait. He'll wake up soon. I just don't know when." He said and looked outside to where the constant thunderous banging of siege engines and rifle fire could be heard.

Sylvanas didn't say anything.

"My men cannot hold on much longer." He stood up and tidied his unkempt hair. "I need to get to Muradin. He and I will go to an ancient wayshrine to retrieve something… something that could prove to be a gamechanger and get us out of this mess." He looked at her stroking Cicero's hair and noticed she was too concerned for Cicero's health. He then realized from her reactions that she cared a lot for Cicero and that she probably loves him.  
"Don't worry, Sylvanas. I won't tell anyone about you two." He said then went out.

"Wait!" said Sylvanas as she followed him out.

The prince stopped and turned back to look at her. The elf's eyes were glowing bright blue under the shade of her hood. Her long elven ears pointed upwards and her hand gripped tightly on her bow.  
"I'm coming with you. Cicero would have wanted me to keep on fighting. And Mal'ganis… let's not forget about it, Arthas – Mal'ganis needs to die!"

Arthas smiled sardonically and nodded.

.

.

.

Jaina Proudmoore was holding a sack full of carrots as she walked towards Invincible's gravestone. Invincible was Arthas's best friend apart from Varian Wrynn when they were in their teens. He was a lean and stocky but gentle horse that loved attention from his owner. Arthas would ride on him for miles and miles and the horse loved it. He would sometimes be scolded by his father, the king, for not being home before dinner and having him worried to the point where one time he once sent a search patrol to locate the young man.

Jaina approached the gravestone and gently placed the basket of carrots on the ground. She also had a daisy with its stem sandwiched between the cleavage of her supple breasts. She stood up, fished out the flower from her bosom and placed it on the gravestone before kneeling. Carrots were Invincible's favourite food especially the kind bought from Andorhall. When Arthas was training to be a paladin, he and his best friend Varian Wrynn studied over at Stratholme under the tutelage of Uther the Lightbringer and Muradin Bronzebeard. Jaina from time to time visit her friend Varian in Stratholme and got to know Arthas through him. Whenever they returned from Stratholme, Jaina would stop by at the market stalls of Andorhall and buy some carrots for the horse, and when they got to Lordaeron, Invincible would gallop in glee at the sight of her because he knows she has carrots.

As Jaina was silently giving her thoughts and prayers to the long-departed horse, she got reminded of her first kiss with Arthas.

**Flashback**

Jaina Proudmoore had just got done with her last class for the day, Cryogenic Arcaneodynamics, and was on her way to her dormitory. She had been very hard at work with her studies and was stressed out during the past few days. On her way to her lodging, she heard the sound of hooves and the voice of Arthas shouting "Jaina!". She looked around and saw him on top of his horse approaching. He was wearing a royal tabard, some fine-looking pants and shoes and a brown crusher hat on top of his long blonde hair. She was shocked at the sight of this because Arthas was not enrolled in Dalaran and horses were not allowed to be inside the arcane campus.

"Arthas, what are you doing here?" she asked as he was slowly approaching.

"Jaina, I…uh…uhm… I just wanna see you!" said the young prince.

"You came here by yourself?"

"No, I snuck some of my personal guards to come here with me! Uhm… anyway, Jaina. Varian and I are gonna throw a sick party at Goldshire. I was just wondering if you wanna come."

Jaina giggled at first then laughed, which she never did for days due to the academic pressure.

"Arthas, you two skipped classes again?"

"Uh…"

Jaina let out an exasperated sigh and walked towards him. "Come down from there, let's talk for a bit." She said and the young Arthas complied. She patted his horse before she led Arthas to a bench beside a fountain nearby and they both sat down.

"You've been skipping classes just so you can visit me in school? You're the heir to your father's throne, Arthas. Skipping classes and partying at night are not the qualities of a future king and you know that." She said to him.

Arthas looked at the fountain, the spurting water on its topmost funnel falling on the pond below.  
"It's just that…" he sighed. "Nevermind, Jaina."

"I'm sorry, Arthas. I can't go – I have examinations in 2 days and I need to spend the whole weekend preparing."

The young prince was saddened by the rejected invitation but what struck him most was that she reminded him the fact that his juvenile antics weren't good for him nor for his future. He was silent.

Jaina turned to look at him just staring at the fountain. She then gently scooted closer to him and held his forearm. "Arthas, will you promise me to take your studies seriously from now on?"

The young man turned to face her. "Y…yes…yes, Jaina."

"Really?" she said with one of her brows raised.

"Yes."

"And that you'll not skip classes just to visit me here ever again, yes?"

He sighed and turned to the spurting waters on the fountain again. "Why? Because you don't wanna see me anymore?" he said then bowed his head in sadness.

"No, Arthas." Her fingers went down from his forearm to his hand and held it. "Because I'm finally giving you what you want."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm sorry. wha…" As soon as he was about to face her, Jaina pulled him close and kissed him. As the two were making out, the horse neighed in joy.

**Flashback Ends**

Invincible's high-pitched neigh during her first kiss stuck with her ever since.

"Jaina!" a woman's voice beckoned to her from a distance interrupting her trip along memory lane.

Jaina slowly got up and turned around. She saw Arthas's older sister - princess Calia Menethil, waving to her and walking towards her. She had not seen Arthas's sister for almost 8 years, ever since she and Arthas broke up. Calia had long straight blonde hair similar to her brother's, was wearing a blue and gold dress tight enough to show off her voluptuous figure. She was also holding a white parasol over her head.

"Calia! It's been a while since we last met. You've grown!" Said Jaina then hugged her followed by 2 kisses to the cheeks.

"I know, right? So, what brings you here?"

"Is your father busy today? I was hoping if I could have some time to talk to him."

Calia chuckled. "Yes, of course. He's always been busy, old man doesn't get enough sleep these days. Why don't come inside? He'll be more than happy to see you, Jaina. Oh, it would bring a smile on his face."

Jaina smiled at her and nodded.

.

.

.

Arthas, Muradin, Sylvanas and 4 riflemen went on a hasty quest to retrieve the sword, Frostmourne. With the undead forces of Northrend concentrated on attacking the basecamp, the waygate to the runebalde's location became unguarded. Before they went and looked for the elven gate that leads to the path to the runeblade's location, Arthas appointed captain Falric to take charge with the defenses. Fortunately for them, the assault team in its entirety had arrived and were placed on defensive positions to replace the dead defenders.  
During previous operations, the prince relied a lot on Cicero's spell, _clairvoyance_, to locate shortcuts and precise coordinates of things of interest. But now at this crucial moment when he needed him the most, Cicero was immobilized which was very unfortunate for them. He does however have Sylvanas who spent time with Cicero the most. She by now learned the visual images of what paths to take and what are to be avoided whenever he casted the spell and they followed. Arthas took 4 riflemen with him, the fresh and fed ones from the assault team. He preferred them because of their proven effectiveness to engage targets and they can quickly dispatch them at long ranges.

"Muradin, where is this weapon located precisely?" he asked as they were running up north along a straight path.

"I don't know but according to my readings, it's somewhere here: the waygate we entered transported us to the vault where the blade is kept."

Sylvanas jumped in. "The thing we are looking for is a blade?" she asked.

"I'm not sure but it's a weapon, alright: It's a blade from what I read about but it could be a mace, a gun, or a bow for all we know." Said Muradin.

"It's a good thing you came with us, Windrunner. If it happens to be a bow, you'll be the one to wield it." Said Arthas.

"Yeah… wait." She said as her long elven ears heard distant snarling and growls. "Look out! Wolves!"

They immediately unsheathed their weapons at the sight of 5 giant wolves charging at them. Sylvanas quickly drew an arrow and aimed. Arthas and Muradin got in defensive stances holding their melee implements waiting for the beasts to come close. Sylvanas released then the riflemen fired – 3 wolves were killed. Sylvanas drew another arrow and shot at another while the riflemen shot volleys at the 2 remaining wolves. Only one died but the last remaining one was gutsy and was the largest among them.

"Save your bolts, I got this!" shouted Muradin.

Sylvanas looked at the dwarf and saw him drop his axe, and with two hands gripped on his maul, he hit the maul's head on the ground. She heard a faint ringing when the icy ground collided with the metal. A second later, the ringing went from faint to loud as the vibration in the maul's head got more and more intense. She looked at the maul and saw electrical energy emanating from it, and without warning, he quickly hurled the maul towards the advancing wolf – the maul's head collided with the wolf's snout and almost instantly, the wolf's entire body disintegrated into a charred mass as the shock vaporized up the animal's blood and tissues.

"Woah!" exclaimed Arthas in amazement.

"Not bad for an old man aye, lad?" Muradin said then chuckled. "Now, let's get moving."

And so, they did journey forth to find the weapon. They encountered some skirmishes with skeletal warriors on the way as they moved to the northeast. Sylvanas Windrunner's long elven ears helped a lot with detecting imminent dangers hidden within the trees and that she suggested that they avoid engaging with them since time was not a luxury they can spend. As they pressed further, her elven instincts detected what felt to her like magical energy emanating from the north. They then proceeded to go further until they saw a graveyard further up ahead. As they walked and got closer, Sylvanas felt even larger amounts of elemental energy that was making her queasy.

"I think this is the place." Said Arthas.

Out of nowhere, they heard a very deep, loud spectral voice. "Turn back, mortals. Death and darkness are all that awaits you in this forsaken vault!"

All of them drew out their weapons and scanned their perimeters. Then, the ground began to grumble as they looked towards the graveyard. There, they saw the source of the spectral voices come up from the ground – the frost revenants, and there were three of them. They looked like floating sets of armoured robes with no body underneath. Their heads were just empty voids with 2 glowing blue lights for eyes and were protected by a horned helmet. They were wearing large pauldrons on top of their robes and held oversized kite shields on their left hands. Their right hands held spiked maces with electrical infusion. They were basically armoured ghosts with maces and kite shields.

"Stand back, we are here to retrieve frostmourne." Said the prince.

"Turn… away." Said the largest revenant among the three in a deep guttural voice.

"Let me guess, is it a sword? A bow? Oh…oh is it a…?" asked the prince mockingly.

"Enough! Turn away now or you shall face our wraths!"

Arthas chuckled momentarily, then without warning, charged at the largest revenant at the center but missed when the revenant sidestepped and the prince tripped and fell on his face. The riflemen opened fire at the other 2 while Sylvanas drew her bow and helped the prince engage the largest one. The 2 revenants were mortally wounded by the bullets but they managed to cast a spell on them – the 2 revenants before collapsing to their deaths manage to cast Chain Lightning on them simultaneously, electrocuting the dwarves. The largest revenant followed and also casted his own and was the strongest. Arthas reacted quickly by casting his holy shield on Muradin and Sylvanas as soon as he saw the revenants charging up their maces. The same could not be said to the riflemen who were too far from Arthas's spells. The riflemen ultimately got electrocuted with fatal doses of amperes from the revenant as he kept blasting them with lighting. Sylvanas was covering up behind Arthas's shield but couldn't ignore the screams of the dwarves as their bloods boiled from within and the amperage cooked them up. The smell of burning flesh and the sight of the dwarves having their veins explode and their eyes popping out made her already queasy stomach lurch.

"You will pay for this!" shouted Muradin is extreme rage.

Arthas and the elf was still behind the holy shield. Muradin however went behind them and bowed his head. Sylvanas could sense a magical energy emanate from the Dwarf as both of them watched in awe at what Muradin had turned himself into.

"For… Kaz…Modan!" shouted Muradin.

The dwarf suddenly quickly changed colours from brownish yellow to titanium white, his height grew from four and a half to almost six feet - taller than Sylvanas.

"Get out me way, kiddos. Let yer old man handle this wee knobhead!" he said as he ran towards the remaining revenant.

The revenant guardian tried to blast him with lighting surges but the Dwarf only absorbed them and turned it against the creature. With both of his hacking and bludgeoning implements, he stuck the revenant guardian. The guardian was able to lift its shield but the force together with the electrical infusion from the strike melted the steel kite shield and went through the revenants armour. The revenant with its chest opened up stood precariously as it tries to speak.

"Turn… away… before… it's too late…" said the dying revenant in its usual guttural deep voice.

Muradin reverted back to his dwarven form and gestured the 2 to come closer as it was no longer a threat.

"Still trying to protect the sword, are you?" said Arthas.

"No… trying to protect you… from it." Said the revenant before the ghost inside the armour departed making the heavy armour fall down to the icy ground.

The magical energy from the runeblade was making Sylvanas feel even worse. The magic she was sensing was extremely powerful.

"Thread carefully. The energy… I feel a very strong sense of…urgh" Sylvanas was clutching her stomach with her free hand as she felt more and more sick.

"Are you okay?" asked the prince.

Sylvanas collapsed on one knee and puked on the icy snow. Arthas then casted healing on her and helped her stand up.

"Thank you… wait…Arthas…?" she looked at him and saw his skin was looking pale again. The prince's eyes got some bluish tint all over his emerald ones.

"What?" he asked her, confused.

.

.

**Inside Cicero's mind.**

Cicero was all alone inside the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary in Cheydinhal. The nightmother he was guarding all his life was nowhere to be found. He looked around the sanctuary and noticed something was off with the hallway that leads to the rooms of the members of The Black Hand. The flooring on the hallway was wet with blood as he looked at it from a distance.

"Cheydinhal? why am I in Cheydinhal?"

He looked down on his hands and saw he was not wearing The Jester's clothes but was wearing the standard dark brotherhood recruit uniform he wore before he went insane. The tables were filled with neatly stacked food, the scones on the walls were lit, the floors were shiny clean (except the ones to the hallway) and chandeliers were bright and pretty. He thought these premises seemed to be well maintained which was indicative of human activity but what he found weird was that there was an earie silence within the entire sanctuary.

He slowly got up and inspected himself then noticed that he was missing some things: the bow and quiver of Nathanos was gone from his back and the blade of woe sheathed on his belt was replaced by an ebony dagger. He still had a satchel but not the one he was carrying when he was fighting in Northrend. He sat down on a chair beside a table filled with food and silverware, as he did, he felt something solid on his chest pocket. He fished the object out and saw it was the 2nd volume of his old diary he was writing on during 188 of the fourth era.

He opened it and scanned through until he reached the last page and read through the last passage.

**_1st of Sun's Dusk, 4E 188_**_. Things in Bravil have come to a head. The statue of the Lucky Old Lady  
has been destroyed, and Alisanne Dupre has left her residence to guard the crypt of the Night Mother,  
hidden below the remains of the statue. If the crypt is discovered, Alisanne Dupre will, of course,  
protect the remains of the Unholy Matron until her dying breath. Rasha is sending Garnag and  
Andronica to aid in the crypt's defense. I begged to accompany them, but Rasha wouldn't have it. He  
says my place is here, defending this Sanctuary, and I must of course respect that decision._

After reading the passage, he flew into a rage and threw the journal across the room. He dropped down to the ground and shouted.

"Alisanne! I could have… I could have!" he screamed at the top of his lungs while pounding the floor with hammer firsts. "If it weren't for that… Rasha! You, stupid cat!"

Suddenly, Sylvanas Windrunner's moaning voice echoed within the chambers. Her voice startled him.

"Cicero… help."

"Sylvanas? Sylvanas, where are you!" he shouted.

He got up and casted clairvoyance but the clairvoyant path was not just a linear one that directed to a single location… but multiple ones that point inside every single room along the hallway.

"Son of a bitch…" he muttered in frustration.

"It… argh! It…hurts!" the voice said.

"Sylvanas! what door are you in?" he shouted.

Cicero hastily went to the bloodied pathways of the hallways to find Sylvanas on either one of the rooms. He started by knocking on Andronica's room. "Sylvanas! are you in here?"

"I'm… so cold." The voice replied within.

He wasted no time and kicked the door open with all the might he can muster. Inside, he did not see Windrunner at all. What he saw inside Andronica's room was pure horror, Andronica's chopped up body lying on the bed: her chest was cut open and disemboweled, her head was severed, her limbs were cut into small pieces, and her innards were on the floor still moving and its reverse peristaltic movement were expelling out her last meal through her severed esophagus.

Cicero quickly closed the door shut at the gruesome sight then went to Garnag's room. He kicked it open and casted magelight to illuminate the dark room. He only saw Garnag's fancy knickknacks and belongings but no sign of Sylvanas nor Garnag himself. He then got reminded that the orc was the last companion he had but left to "get some food". He never saw him ever since.

He then went and knocked open Rasha's room. The magelight shone the room and what he saw was Rasha's body: his head was bloodied up especially on the neck area as his neck was slit open. This was Cicero's and Garnag's doing and he knew it. He knew he felt no remorse when he ordered the orc to kill him, but now he doesn't know what to think of it since he was not of a sound mind back then.  
He slowly closed the door and went to the last room – his room.

"Sylvanas! are you inside?"

The response within was the sound of a loud thud followed by her grunting: The sound she would have made if she was stabbed.

Cicero wasted no time and kicked the door. He ran inside but he only saw total darkness despite the magelight hovering above his head.

"Cicero…please…" the voice sounded through the darkness again.

All of a sudden, the light from the scones lighted themselves up. The whole room was lit but Cicero thought the room looked totally different from his room back in the Cyrodiil. Inside the room, lying on the floor in a fetal position, he saw what looked to be Sylvanas Windrunner. The figure on the floor however did not have long elven ears protruding out of the hood. Her long brows were not visible protruding out either. Her hair was not blonde… but was auburn. It was really weird for him because why does she have Sylvanas's voice and armour when she is…

"Alisanne?" Cicero asked.

There was no response but there was a puddle of blood building up on the floor oozing out from the woman. Cicero quickly casted healing on her with both hands and inspected her. She turned her and was now lying on her back – she had 5 large icicles embedded all over her torso, 3 on the chest and two on the abdomen. He casted paralysis on her then pulled out every single ice spike before casting healing on her again to close the wounds.

"Alisanne, who did this to you?"

The red-haired woman's lips trembled as she tried to speak. Her right hand reaching to hold Cicero's face.

"Don't… let her…be another…me." Alisanne spoke, again in Sylvanas's voice.

**Cicero then suddenly broke free from the comatose and woke up**. The first thing he heard was the rapid gunfire of riflemen that sounded like cloth getting ripped and torn. He then the sounds of thunderous artillery fire from siege engines and mortar teams, the few remaining mages were murmuring chants as they hurled spells at their enemy. He sat up and when he tried to stand, he felt pain in his left shoulder and right ankle. He wanted to join the fight and help Arthas and Sylvanas whom he thought were outside fighting. He ignored the contents of the dream because he thought it did not make sense in the slightest. But little does he know that soon…it will.  
He casted healing on himself but the pain still persists – he had a dislocated left shoulder and a twisted right ankle from the 50-meter fall. His healing spells can only repair damaged body parts but not dislocated joints and sockets. He looked around the tent and saw a weapon rack. Among the weapons on the rack was a dwarven rifle. Fortunately for him, the dwarves did teach him how to use one. All he has to do now is to look for ammunition.

.

.

The knights fighting in the melee were finishing off the remaining undead from the latest wave. Captain Falric was in the frontal formation and had just skewered another ghoul with his spear while Marywn was fighting beside him and was skewering another ghoul with his billhook.

"There, that should take care of them." Said the captain.

"I'm so hungry, even the meat from those ghouls look appetizing." Said Marwyn.

Captain Falric's brows raised at what he just heard from the knight. "What the hell is wrong with you? Go to the back and let someone take you over. There's another wave coming." Ordered Falric.

"Can I at least go back inside and get just 1 bite, 1 bite of cheese and that's all I need."

"I'm very hungry too, Marwyn. We all are! But we can't afford to waste precious seconds of preparation. It's how we are still alive as of now. Now shut up and quit bellyaching."

Marwyn pouted and angrily went to the rear formation as another knight took his place in the front. As the knights were getting ready for another wave and the grunting and snarling of ghouls and spiders got louder and louder, they heard the roar of a Frost Wyrm.

"Rifles and Mages, focus fire on the Dragon! Do not engage ground units, I repeat – Focus fire on the dragon and do not engage ground units!" shouted the Captain. The ranged units on the crenels relayed them after.

The siege engines and mortar teams inside the basecamp's walls fired on the incoming undead personnel and blew some of them up before the knights engaged them in the melee. The knights were holding themselves well despite being fatigued and severely weakened due to constant fighting and hunger.

The same cannot be said for the ranged units who were trembling in anticipation as the frost wyrm was flying towards the basecamp. They feared the creature considering how poorly they did when a frost wyrm dived down and took out lots of them during the last encounters. They only were able to destroy them with the help of Cicero and Arthas. All of them were aiming at the frost wyrm as it rapidly closed in but the creature was still flying too high up to be shot accurately. The frost wyrm roared and brought chills on the spines of the dwarves and mages who are tasked to engage it.  
When the frost wyrm was close enough, it dived down. The ranged units shot at it as fast as they could. They kept shooting and shooting but the dragon didn't show any signs of damage or deterrence. All of a sudden, a bright yellow projectile hit the dragon in the head and the whole creature got immolated.  
The riflemen saw it. This only meant for them that the red-haired man who they call him was not dead but came back to join the fight.

One of the dwarves inside the siege engine's gun turret was watching the frost wyrm from his periscope, the creature was losing altitude rapidly and was falling down vertically. He aimed down his sights and then fired – the high-explosive shell met the vertical path of the falling dragon and scored a direct hit. The high explosive shell exploded together with the frost wyrm and bones started raining from above.

Cicero was limping as he walked towards the front line behind the line of knights. He helped them out by providing rifle fire and healing wounded knights. To fight with the rifle, he held a fistful of rifle bullets and was cocking the rifle with one hand using downward momentum as he held the bolt action mechanism. He aimed the rifle with one hand since his dislocated arm didn't have the range of motion for it to move and provide support for proper aiming.

After the melee was over and the last undead had been dealt with, the knights were repositioning themselves to prepare for another wave. Cicero who was at the back line then shouted for Sylvanas. Falric heard it then motioned one knight from the rear formation to take over for him then he went to the redhead so he can talk to him.

Cicero felt a cold tap on his shoulder as he was cocking his rifle. He turned and saw the captain.

"You are Mister Cicero, yes? I am Captain Falric. Ranger General Windrunner and Milord Arthas went to retrieve something." said the captain.

"Retrieve what?"

"I don't know, sir. He didn't want to tell me. Anyway, he assured me they're going to be back shortly."

.

.

Sylvanas was losing blood quick from the wounds she sustained from the ice spikes when Arthas called upon the spirits to free the sword from its icy prison. When the ice blew up, she and Muradin were fatally struck except for Arthas who was the closest to the thing. She was struck by icicles all over her chest and abdomen, and even on her legs. She was helplessly laying sideways on her right side while watching the Prince approach the freed runeblade. Her vision was blurry but she could still see the blade – it looked exactly like the one she saw in her nightmares she dreamt while on the voyage. Cicero's account seemed to also matched the same description of a sword with a goat's skull for a hilt. There it is in all its glory, hovering up and down above an icy pedestal – Frostmourne.

"Arthas…please" she whimpered, calling for the prince to snap out of it as she saw him approach the sword. His green eyes looked to her to have been replaced by blue glowing ones like the ones from the frost wyrms they fought.

He looked at her for a moment but resumed his attention to the blade. The prince threw his holy maul, Light's Vengeance, and was about to touch the pommel but he momentarily came back to his senses when he caught the sight of a bloodied Muradin Bronzebeard lying face down on the red snow. Arthas's blue glowing eyes turned back to his normal emerald ones when he averted his sight from the blade. The prince quickly rushed to Muradin's aid.

"By the light! What has gotten into me?" he exclaimed at the sight of his friend. He also looked around and saw the elf in a fetal position also lying on red snow. "Hang in there, Sylvanas."

Arthas knelt on both knees and channeled his mana to cast his healing spell, holy light. The skies opened as he prayed to The Light. Sylvanas's blurry vision was watching all this and was giving her hope, but that was short lived when the sky returned from bright blue to gray. The healing light did not appear and Arthas stood back up and turned his back on his wounded friend. Sylvanas thought the blade's temptation was way too much for him and that it thwarted even years of the two's friendship. She saw him slowly approach the sword and grabbed it by the handle. The eye sockets in the skull crossguard on the hilt glowed blue light as Arthas raised the sword. This was the last sight the elf saw before her eyes closed.

Arthas went and left the two to die.

.

.

The defending army fought off dozens of waves of ghouls and 1 frost wyrm while Arthas was gone. Cicero climbed up the scaffoldings and was shooting at undead ground units. As he was shooting, he heard the mages and riflemen cheer. Cicero quickly dispatched a spider with a rifle shot then looked down to see what was going on. From the west flank, he saw the prince finally return. He was relieved at the sight of him running towards the front line possibly intending to join his knights in the melee. One thing caught the redhead's eyes though and made his heart drop was the weapon Arthas was holding – the runeblade that the prophet Medivh warned him about, the sword he saw in his dream that Cicero himself could have used to turn Azeroth into an undead haven.  
He didn't know what to think of it though because he was frightened by the sigh of the sword but he was also feeling relief that he wasn't the one who will wield the blade. Arthas in his view, judging from his interpretation of Medivh's ramblings, might use the sword and prevent the foreseen apocalypse or use the sword to bring it forth. For now, he will not act – but wait and see what will happen.

The knights made way for the prince as he joined Captain Falric in the front, and with the sword he was wielding, hastily cut lines of ghouls like he was cutting through air. Cicero was amazed at how the sword cuts through the undead horde like they were nothing despite the sword's obvious non-ideal balance between hilt to blade ratio.

"Men, let's go get Mal'ganis! cut his head off and haul it all the way to Lordaeron!" shouted Arthas as he gestured his men to move forward towards north. "With me now! For Andorhal, for Stratholme, and for The Alliance!"

The men's morale was boosted up at the sight of their future king fight like a demigod. The men followed him. Cicero was about go down the scaffoldings and join the men but he noticed Arthas did not arrive with Sylvanas and Muradin. This worried him so he casted _Clairvoyance _to locate their whereabouts. The clairvoyant path was short and ended within the forest Arthas came from when he returned.

They are just close by but why aren't they moving? He thought. Something felt strange so he decided to check it out. Besides, Arthas could handle everything and that he was certain he didn't need him. Cicero climbed down the scaffoldings and limped his way towards where the clairvoyant path ended. When he finally arrived, he saw what looked to be a portal of some sort. It was a prism like structure with cutouts for stairs and a base for a hovering bright light on the centre. Cicero guessed Muradin and Sylvanas might be inside the portal so he approached it.  
He felt a significant amount of G-force after he was sucked in the portal and thrown into the forsaken vault where the 3 must've went to retrieve the sword. He casted _Detect life_ on one hand and _Detect dead_ on his other. What he saw were neutral dead objects only, ones that weren't hostile. He thought the 3 must have dispatched them on their way so he knew he won't be encountering any hostiles on the way. He then casted clairvoyance and saw it end to the far north, the clairvoyant path was just stationary: not moving. This only meant…

"No, no, no!" he shouted in worry, fearing that Sylvanas was dead.

He picked up the pace and limped as fast as he could. He even tried to jog despite the pain he was feeling in his twisted ankle. The dream he had while in comatose now made sense: these were the events in the Cheydinhal sanctuary happening all over again; This was the death of Alisanne Dupre all over again.

**Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil. Fourth Era 188.**

"Rasha, please! I beg of you, let me go with you, hell I'm willing to go by myself! Please, brother!" Cicero asked the cat. The redhead's ebony blade sheathed on his belt, thirsty for blood.

"You are here to stay and protect the sanctuary, and that's final." Replied Rasha, his ears and whiskers pointing back in annoyance.

"But I can be of great help for Garnag and Andronica. I was a Nightblade in the legion: I've been trained to do search and rescue, assassinations, recon…"

"Yes, yes Whatever! You're the best one the sanctuary has. This one knows that." said the cat, cutting the young and eager redhead. "But that's why you're to stay here, _smoothskin_. To guard the sanctuary."

"But…"

"Wayrest is lost! Bravil is lost! We cannot lose Cheydinhal, Cicero!" hissed the cat as he went for the door. "If we lose this sanctuary, the brotherhood will be done! The Nightmother will be homeless and will rot! and the Black Sacraments will never be answered again."

"What about Alisanne… what about the listener!"

The cat's ears pointed flat to the sides forming a 180-degree included angle. His whiskers were vibrating, his lips pursed, and his brows furrowed. He turned his back at the redhead and stepped outside.

"It will be Sithis who will decide this _smoothskin's_ fate. Not me… and certainly not you." The cat said before putting on his hood then closing the door behind him.

**Flashback ends**

Cicero knew he could have saved Alisanne if he went out of the sanctuary and went to Bravil on his own instead of defending the sanctuary. It was synonymous to what he was at right now – he knew he could have saved Sylvanas if he went and searched for her instead of defending Arthas's basecamp.

As he was limping as fast as his body can allow, he was hearing voices in his head. Voices from his dream – the voice of Alisanne and the last words she spoke to him in his dream before he woke up.

_"__Don't let her be another me." _He heard the Breton's voice in his mind.

"No, I won't let it!" He shouted as he continued limping.

He casted clairvoyance again and noticed he was just a few meters away. He limped faster, ignoring the pain in his foot until he finally arrived. What he saw shocked him and made his heart sink – The entire vicinity of the graveyard was riddled with sharp icicles. On the ground, he saw Sylvanas Windrunner lying on her side in a fetal position and Muradin Bronzebeard lying on his stomach face-down. The snow they laid on were red and he guessed they must've succumbed to blood loss. He wanted to know if they really were dead so he casted _Detect life_. When he casted, he felt a glimmer of hope when he saw very faint blue within them. This only meant they weren't dead, but are still dying and are doing so quickly so he needed to heal them with haste.

He quickly limped towards Sylvanas and knelt down on two knees. He casted healing on her then turned her around to see what damage she sustained. What he saw shocked him: Her yellowish white skin had turned pale and her apricot lips turned bluish; He saw 3 ice spikes on her chest, 1 close to her heart, and 2 spikes on her middle abdomen close to her aorta, just like what Alisanne had in the dream. Cicero casted paralysis on her then quickly took out the 5 ice spikes embedded on her body, after which he casted healing again until his magicka ran out.

"Sylvanas, hang in there, My love." He said to her, tears flowing from his eyes.

Her skin was still pale due to blood loss and her wounds still did not close despite Cicero's healing. He did not want to lose her and he was desperate to save her. He knew the people of Silvermoon needed her and that Quel'thalas would be left without a ranger general. Cicero then settled to the thought that he was content to die: he had made love with Sylvanas; helped Arthas retrieve the blade and he can now stop Mal'Ganis and stop the apocalypse the prophet mentioned. He also decided that her life was more important than his and that he was willing to give his own for her. She needed healing and she needed them now but his magicka had ran out. He had only one option:

There was a spell he learned in Alteration school at the Arcane University called _Equilibrium. _A novice level Alteration spell that converts the caster's life essence into magicka. Cicero had no more options besides this.

A single teardrop from Cicero's eye fell on Sylvanas's face. He removed his right glove then gently touched her face, feeling her smooth skin. He then raised his right hand containing the spell, and with his hand from his injured left arm, held the elf on her right hand_. _A yellowish red light glowed from his palms when he casted the spell. He felt surges of extreme pain in his entire body as his life essence was getting converted to magicka.

And with his left hand holding Sylvanas, he casted healing on her. His own life essence was replacing his magicka and was restoring life to the elf. The pain Cicero was feeling was unbearable and he felt his life slowly getting drained from him, but despite of it all, he persisted. The wounds on her midsection and chest had closed, her pale skin was slowly returning to pale yellow as the holy restoration spell restored her blood, organs, and damaged tissues at Cicero's expense.

Cicero's life essence was running out so he took this opportunity to talk to her for the final time.

"Sylvanas, do you remember what you said to me in Andorhal? I will carry that saying when I finally go to Aetherius… the afterlife." he said to her with teary eyes as he continued to drain his own lifeforce. "The gravest of sins… can be forgiven… by doing greater deeds… of good." He said.

"I love you, Sylvanas!" he shouted before the last of his life essence was transferred to her. Before he knew it, he felt a final surge of pain in his heart. He then collapsed on the snowy ground beside the elf.

.

.

Sylvanas's eyes were twitching. She was feeling a tickling sensation on her right arm and a cold sensation on her back. She suddenly woke up with her eyes wide open and her breathing heavy gasping for air. She quickly sat up and felt a hand on her right arm. She turned to see who it was and saw it was Cicero lying on the ground sleeping - or at least it's what she thought. She ran her hand on her hide jerkin and felt the icicles were gone and that there were holes on her armour exposing some of her skin.

"Cicero? What are you doing here?" he asked him. But the redhead did not reply.

"Cicero?" she got up, knelt beside him and shook him up. "Wake up, we have to stop Arthas. The sword you dreamt about? it's all true!" she said to him but still he did not wake up.

She patted on his cheeks to try and wake him up, he felt cold like that of a corpse. This made her heart sink and made her choke up in tears.

"Cicero, wake up! Don't do this to me, sweetie!" she was shaking him hard but to no avail.

Moments passed by. He still did not wake up despite her best efforts, from shaking him and even mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She then came to the painful conclusion that he was dead. And that if she was alive which she believed should not be, she figured Cicero must have did some of his Tamrielic magic to save her at the cost of his own life.

Her heart was overwhelmed with a plethora of bad emotions at the sight of her dead lover. And with one deep breath, she screamed at the top of her lungs: Her piercing scream was so loud that the ice surrounding the area cracked and even flocks of birds dropped dead mid-air. Her scream was loud and bloody just like that from a _Banshee_.

.

.

.

**To be continued.**

**Could this be the end of our protagonist?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Weaves of Fate.**

**(This is gonna look like a very long scripted dialogue)**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Medivh, in his raven form had just arrived to Northrend** and was now flying around observing the remnants of Lordaeron's army quickly destroy the undead horde as the prince was getting close to Mal'Ganis' position to the far north. All of a sudden, he heard a deafening screech to the far south. Since he is in his bird form, which made his hearing many times more sensitive than that of his human form, the screech he heard was so loud that it made him go down mid-flight. The Alliance's army heard it momentarily but it didn't impair their hearing in any way. The same could not be said to The Prophet who just fell down and was now lying on the ground within the trees. The prophet morphed back into his human form and as soon as he did, he felt an excruciating pain on his head which made him drop down to one knee. What followed were the visions of the apocalypse taking place just like how he saw them months before: **his visions of the prophecy were no longer clouded**, and the apocalypse was about to come to fruition.

He saw images of Arthas stabbing Sylvanas Windrunner and raising her into a ghostly spectral; he saw him kill every soldier he had and raise them into undead soldiers; he saw the prince arrive at the shores of Stratholme greeted with a hero's welcome only to kill every single one of the citizens and raise them into an undead army.

"Oh, no!" he muttered. His heart pumping as he saw more.

Arthas in the visions arrived in Lordaeron with an undead army numbered in the millions and they quickly overtook the Kingdom within hours. After doing so, he killed his father, King Terenas, then marched his army towards Quel'thalas and towards Stormwind, Ironforge, and then Kalimdor. Then finally, the visions came to a stop.

"What is going on!" he muttered to himself, couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Why did the visions of the apocalypse come back? He thought. The visions were blurred when the red-haired man from Tamriel had come to Azeroth and that his presence alone was the sole reason for the clouding of the prophecy. This only meant 2 things, either Cicero had returned back to Tamriel or he had died. Medivh thought about the 1st option and found it very unlikely because why would he return to Tamriel when he is engaged and invested in trying to influence the prophecy entirely while winning Windrunner's heart? which he thought he still hasn't done. The second option was more likely: He thought Cicero was a very dangerous and formidable fighter with so much otherworldly knowledge and magic at his disposal but in the midst of battle, anything could happen – he probably got killed in the melee in the basecamp; he was probably killed by Arthas after he took the sword or while they fought over it.

He wanted to find out what happened to him so he turned back to his raven form then flew back up, went straight to the Alliance basecamp, and surveyed the area looking for the red-haired man with red and black clothing. The bodies on the empty basecamp were all dwarven riflemen, dwarven mortar gunners, human knights, human mages, and 2 elven rangers. But none of the bodies seem to indicate a red-haired human. As he was circling lower and lower, he caught a glimpse of a familiar black dagger near a pancaked tent. Medivh dived down and reverted back to his human form then approached it. He stabbed his staff on the snow, took a knee and took the dagger. He immediately recognized it to be Cicero's dagger but he noticed something was different – the red veins on the black steel on the blade were now gone and all it was now was just a mere black blade. Could the red veins in the blade indicate the lifeforce of the wielder? He thought to himself. If that was the case, then Cicero definitely died.

"I need to return to the Eastern Kingdoms and warn everyone." He said to himself. He put the dagger on his pocket then prepared to turn back into his raven form. But as he was doing so, his head ached again as he saw more visions, but this time, visions not of the prophecy but of the dagger itself. It was like the dagger spoke to him.

In the vision, there was total darkness, and from out of nowhere, two figures appeared: he saw a robed man wielding the very blade Medivh had on his person, and another man wearing armor with small rounded pauldrons and a fluted breastplate which looked weird to him. The man wielding the blade approached the armoured man, and with both hands, offered the blade to him.

"You, the _Hero of Kvatch_. It is an honor to have you as an initiate of the Dark Brotherhood."

The armoured man was silent.

"Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your silence." The robed man handed him the blade, the very blade Medivh had in his pocket.

"It will serve me well, Lucien Lachance. May it drain the life of my foes as they succumb before me."

The vision ends and his sight was back to reality. Medivh was in awe after seeing the blade in his visions. Judging from what he heard from those two gentlemen, the blade is supposed to be thirsty for blood and that it drains the life of its foes. He then remembered Cicero when he watched him fight: when the blade struck an enemy, it glowed and a red mist comes out from the creature struck which then gets sucked by the blade. In other words, the blade sucks the lifeforce of its foes and gets absorbed by the wielder.

Medivh was feeling a glimmer of hope at the thought of this and he now had a plan. All he has to do now was look for Cicero's body. He looked around and noticed a trail of footprints that pointed to the south and another that pointed towards him to the north. He thought that these where from Cicero and Arthas respectively. He took his staff then followed the southward footprints until he arrived at the waygate. The footprints seem to end at the stairway of the portal.

"What is this?" he said.

He shielded his eyes from the bright light and approached the portal. When he made contact with the light, he was sucked and thrown into the Forsaken Vault. He dusted himself off and shook off the dizziness then continued following the footprints.

.

.

.

Lor'Themar Theron and Dar'khan Drathir were standing side by side while kael'Thas Sunstrider was sitting beside a desk opposite to them. They were inside Silvermoon palace discussing the origins of the big golden scroll that was found on the outskirts of Quel'thalas. The daily logs of the rangers' activity at the day the Ranger General Windrunner took in a wounded visitor into the city was placed on the table. Beside it was a gold coin given to Dar'khan Drathir by the visitor himself.

"Sire, these are the logs I've found on that day. I can assure you these weren't tampered with." Theron said then gently pushed the opened logbook towards Kael.

The prince looked at it for a moment then turned his attention to the coin.

"And that, he gave that to you?" he asked Theron.

"No, your highness." Replied Theron.

"He gave it to me after I healed him." Said Dar'khan.

Kael took the coin from the table and leaned close to study it. The coin contained engravings of a human's head and a tiny engraving of the name 'Tiber Septim' and around the head were larger engravings that said 'THE EMPIRE IS LAW; THE LAW IS SACRED'.

"Empire of what? The dead Gurubashi empire? The dead Amani empire? The head in the coin is a human, not a troll. Wait... the Arathors... nah, that's impossible." The prince thought the coin must have been one from the Arathi empire but immediately doubted it since he knew what Arathi artifacts looked like.

He turned the coin backwards and saw an engraving of a caricature of what looked like a dragon. Around the dragon was an engraving that says 'PRAISE BE AKATOSH AND ALL THE DIVINES'.

"Who the hell is Akatosh?"

"Some sort of a god, probably? Maybe the Amanis and The Gurubashis worshipped it and maybe that Tiber Septim fellow were their emperor?" said Dar'khan."

"But it doesn't make any sense. This type of craftmanship would have never been done by trolls. And the man on the coin… Lor'themar, what sort of people are placed on the faces of coins?" He turned to look a Theron.

"Uhm… Kings, your grace. Kings, and Queens."

"Exactly. The trolls would have never elected a man as their king, or in this case, their emperor."

Kael'thas tossed the coin to Dar'khan and the elf caught it.

"Take that to the other convocations of Silvermoon for studying after this meeting."

"Yes, sire."

Kael'thas slapped both of his hands on the table. "Now, Lor'themar. Were you with Sylvanas Windrunner on that day?"

"No, sire. I was training the guards with their archery. I was summoned by General Windrunner when I was to make a report on the incident."

Kael'Thas's left brow raised before he took the logbook and read through the report which was 3 paragraphs long. The report says the following:

**_Sunday Morning, 22_****_nd_****_ of September._**

_Ranger General Sylvanas Windrunner and Ranger Lord Nathanos Marris along with 20 ranger  
apprentices had been called in to respond after trade caravans from Lordaeron that contained caches  
of iron ingots failed to arrive yesterday. The rangers had found the trade caravan at approximately 9:00  
and what was found was that the horses and the human occupants of the carriages were shot  
with arrows.  
The contents of the wagons however were still covered with cloth and left untouched by the assailants.  
Ranger General Windrunner commanded her rangers to scan for nearby trolls and found a basecamp  
to the northeast of ground zero. The outskirts of the basecamp were surrounded by armed trolls  
whom were dispatched by the rangers resulting in a body count of 20 trolls – 15 male and 5 females.  
General Windrunner ordered the 20 ranger apprentices to take the caravan to the city. According to  
Miss Windrunner and Nathanos, they decided to not take immediate action concerning the troll  
basecamp since the inhabitants were only non-combatant trolls that composed of farmers, women,  
children and Kodo Beasts. When the 2 decided to head home, they stumbled upon what looked to her  
was an unconscious red-haired man wearing a red crowned hat, black gloves, black boots, and  
black/red pants and shirt. The man was reported to have several broken bones on his limbs and a  
hyperextended right elbow. His belongings include a belt bag, a dagger, and a silver jeweled pendant  
all scatted around the ground near him._

_Ranger General Windrunner ordered Nathanos Marris to carry the man to the healing chambers of the  
city for examination. It was first guessed that the man was one of the carriage riders of the trade  
caravan but the clothes he was wearing did not match the uniforms of the traders. The injuries he  
sustained seemed to have been from a nasty fall and not from any battle implements from trolls. In  
conclusion, the man was not from the trade caravan and must have gotten his injuries from a fall  
according to the healers who tended to him. The man was sedated with 2 drops of diluted Sunwell  
water which was twice the dosage to revive a mortally wounded high elf._

**_7:00 pm_**

_Magister Dar'Khan Drathir reported that the recently healed man had awoken at 3:00 pm but was  
unconscious again and sustained a gash on his right brow. Ranger General Windrunner witnessed the  
accident first hand while she was talking to him. Upon collapsing, Miss Windrunner temporarily  
stopped the bleeding by applying pressure to his head until Magister Dar'khan Drathir who was the  
closest mage in the area came to aid. The king's guards then informed Miss Windrunner to gather her  
most elite rangers and depart for Andorhal ASAP (As soon as possible) to aid Prince Arthas's plague  
investigation for it may stop a potential threat to the city.  
The red-haired man woke up gain at 6:30 pm with his gash healed. After waking up, he asked  
Magister Drathir where Miss Windrunner was and when the Magister told him, he almost immediately  
departed._

Prince Kael'thas closed the logbook and slid it towards Lor'themar. He clasped both hands and bowed his head as he was thinking about what he just read. He then looked up at them.

"Any reports on the scroll?"

"No, sire. Miss Windrunner didn't mention any as far as I remember." Replied Theron.

"Alright, you're both dismissed. I'll be summoning you both soon."

.

.

.

Sylvanas was still sobbing beside Cicero's corpse when Medivh finally arrived. He guessed that the loud screaming that took him down mid-flight was from her and that Cicero's death must have caused a great deal of pain to her judging from her current state. Medivh quickly ran towards her.

"Sylvanas! what happened?" he asked whilst running towards the elf.

Sylvanas looked up and saw Medivh. Her broken heart turned into raging fury at the sight of the former necromancer. She stood up, her eyes glowed underneath her hood as she was filled with rage. She then took an arrow and drew it, aiming at the Prophet.

"You! This is all your fault!" she shouted.

Medivh quickly dropped his staff and put his hands up.

"Sylvanas, please. Tell me what happened."

"He gave his life…" Tears flowing from her eyes. "He literally gave his own life to revive me… When I should be dead! Dead! Dead!" she shouted.

"Oh… I'm sorry."

"If it weren't for your stupid ramblings, he never would have gotten here in the first place… and…I would have met him in some other way… at least he would be alive if I would!"

Medivh was putting his hands up while slowly approaching Cicero's body. Beside the corpse were 5 large bloodied ice spikes. He looked at Cicero and saw no wounds on his body whatsoever. Sylvanas however had five holes on her breastplate that exposed some skin. The Prophet thought the ice spikes must have been inside the elf recently and that Cicero must have done some of his magic to transfer his life into the elf.

"So that's why… that's why my visions of the prophecy have been restored."

Sylvanas was having none of it. She just lost her lover and the last thing she wanted to hear was the cause of his death – the stupid prophecy. Sylvanas couldn't control her emotions: She released the arrow and shot Medivh in the stomach. Medivh grunted then dropped down on all fours. He gasped for air then crawled towards Cicero.

"You will not raise him, Necromancer. Get away from him!" she shouted then shot him again, this time on his shoulder.

Medivh rived in pain as he was shot but he still kept getting closer to Cicero's corpse. He straightened up whilst kneeling. Blood was coming out from his mouth. He reached down his pocket and took out Cicero's Dagger – The Blade of Woe.

"Drop it! Now!" shouted the elf as she drew another arrow and aimed it on Medivh's head.

"I…I really hope, you'll forgive me someday, Sylvanas. I know that you will soon understand." He said holding the dagger in the reverse grip. Blood was coming out from his mouth. "This blade thirsts for blood… and I shall give it. May it serve him well as he brings forth change…_in the weaves of fate_." He pried open Cicero's hands and placed the dagger on it in the reverse grip.

"What are you talking about? And get away from him - He's dead!"

Medivh did a very raspy inhalation as internal bleeding took place. "I have failed humanity once… I shall not do so again."

All of a sudden, he raised Cicero's hand holding the dagger and thrusted it into his left chest right through his heart. The Blade of Woe's red veins came back as it absorbed Medivh's life essence. The blood spurting from his chest became vaporized blood. Sylvanas who was still aiming the bow, saw red mists of The Prophet's life essence get sucked by the blade and disappear when they made contact with Cicero's arm. As Medivh's life was rapidly getting drained, he saw more visions but not of the apocalypse but this time, that of hope.

"The Visions of the prophecy are clouded once more" he said with a smile. "I…I see… a bright light." He gasped for air again. "Sylvanas, tell him…" said the prophet as his face sunk in and his body was getting drained.

Sylvanas withdrew her arrow and suddenly felt sympathetic towards Medivh. She knelt down on her knees and leaned close.

"Tell him… but only… when the time comes…"

"Yes, I'm listening."

"That… **the bane of Frostmourne shall come**…"

But before he could finish his sentence, he collapsed on the ground with the dagger still stabbed through his heart.

"Where? When?" she asked anxiously while she leaned closer.

The Prophet's entire body looked completely drained and it looked like what's left was only skin and bone, but Medivh however managed to gasp one last breath of air. With the Prophet's last breath, he said his final words.

"When it finally meets… **The Break of Dawn."**

"I will, Medivh. Thank you. I will make sure you will never be forgotten."

.

.

Sylvanas turned her head to look at Cicero. His skin had returned to normal and that he was breathing again. She placed her palm on his left chest and felt that his heart was beating. He had come back to life but at the expense of Medivh. She then felt even more sympathetic to Medivh and felt pity for him not only that she tried to kill him, but due to the fact that he was willing to give his own life just so Cicero can live. She was also feeling a bit elated that her lover was alive which she thought was very selfish of her considering Medivh payed for it.

Cicero opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Sylvanas. She immediately leaned close and kissed him with great vigor for 20 seconds. After they kissed, she embraced him.

"Sylvanas? why are you in Aetherius?" he said.

The elf gently broke free then wiped the tears on her face. "What? No, this is Northrend."

"But how?"

Cicero felt there were hands clasped on his left.

"Medivh… he…"

Cicero sat up and looked to his left and saw a gruesome sight: The Prophet Medivh looking like a draugr from the tombs of an ancient Nordic burial ground; His face was drained beyond recognition; his fingers were but skin and bones still clutching his left hand holding the dagger; The Blade of Woe still stuck through his heart and there were 2 arrows embedded on him.

He looked at the elf. "Sylvanas, did you do this?"

The elf broke into tears again. "I… I did shoot him but…"

"You did what?" he said in an angry voice which scared the elf. He pulled out the dagger from Medivh's chest and stood up. Sylvanas however was so frightened that she started to slowly move away from him.

Sylvanas never seen him get enraged like what she was seeing now. She could only imagine if this was how he acted towards his victims when he killed those countless people when he was an assassin in the Dark Brotherhood.

"Please… let me explain. It wasn't what you think." Claimed the elf.

Cicero turned his back on the elf and looked at The Prophet's corpse.

"I shot him because I blamed his prophecy for your death. I…I lost control and flew into a rage when he started spouting about it more. When you died, the pain in my heart was just too great for me to handle."

Cicero put his palm on his face, not turning back to face the elf.

"He told me the Visions of the prophecy had come back." Said the elf.

The redhead put his hand down and his mouth went ajar.

"And that it only went away when he stabbed your blade through his heart."

Cicero slowly turned to face the frightened elf. "You didn't kill him, but he sacrificed himself?"

The elf replied with a slow nod.

He thought that Medivh must have been adamant to make sure the Prophecy will never ever come to fruition and that his presence itself was the only thing causing its upbringing an indefinite one, hence the _clouded visions _Medivh was saying. He knew that he was Sithis's agent for change in Azeroth and also knew Sithis is just a manifestation of change itself. He was also reminded that he was described by Medivh as the outsider that would bring forth change to the prophecy that was about to destroy the various kingdoms of Azeroth. With that in mind, Medivh plunging the blade to allow his life to be transferred to him was one hundred percent on Medivh's accord and was willingly done.

Cicero sighed and looked at the elf. He tried to walk to towards her but his twisted ankle was still there. So too was his dislocated shoulder. He stumbled back from the pain and the elf quickly caught him before he fell on his face.

"You're still hurt. Please, take a breather." Said the elf who was helping him up.

"No, I can't. We must stop Arthas - I must destroy that blade."

"But you're hurt, you can't fight him like that. I sensed a godly amount of magical energy on that sword. I don't think you would fare well against him. Please…I can't lose you again."

"Medivh sacrificed his life for me. I must at least try!" said Cicero gripping his blade.

"Please, I beg you." Said the elf.

Cicero straightened up then caught a glimpse of Muradin Bronzebeard lying face down on the snow. He quickly broke free from the elf's hold then limped towards the downed dwarf.

"Arthas Killed him too?" he asked.

"No, the icicles hit us when he freed the sword. He tried to heal us both but decided not to when the sword's temptation overwhelmed him."

"Then the sword is controlling him. Arthas is my friend. That sword must be destroyed if we are to save him."

Cicero casted detect life to see if Muradin still had some vital signs. When he casted with his right hand, he miraculously saw very faint blue within him – he immediately took action.

"He's still alive!" exclaimed the redhead.

He knelt down beside the dwarf and Sylvanas rushed in and turned the dwarf around. They saw 3 icicles embedded through his chest and 1 on his shoulder. None of the icicles got through his heart, fortunately. Cicero casted paralysis on the dwarf so as to not induce bleeding when Sylvanas takes out the ice spikes. After the ice spikes were taken off and the paralysis wore, he casted healing on him until his magicka ran out. To Cicero's awe, the spell was potent enough to fix most of the dwarf's injuries and that the holes on his chest all closed. He thought maybe he was easier to heal because he was a dwarf – less body mass and less body parts to consider.

Cicero waited for his magicka to regenerate then casted healing on the dwarf again.

Muradin's eyes opened.

"Lad, what are you doing? Why are you tickling me?" exclaimed the dwarf, reacting to the tickling sensation brought by Cicero's healing.

"Welcome back, Muradin!" said Cicero with a smile.

"Arthas, where is he!" said the dwarf.

"On his way to kill Mal'Ganis." Replied Cicero.

.

.

.

Arthas's army effortlessly killed hundreds of Mal'ganis's undead horde and were now advancing towards Mal'ganis's Necropolis where the Dreadlord himself was hiding. The undead basecamp was quickly getting overrun by the Alliance's forces due to Arthas's runeblade, Frostmourne. Whenever he swung the blade at an enemy, the unfortunate creatures caught in its path were sliced like butter – no undead of any amount could stop the prince from approaching Mal'Ganis.

The dreadlord was sitting on a chair atop the necropolis waiting in anticipation for Arthas and his forces to climb up the stairs of the structure and finally show themselves. Standing to his right was Baron Titus Rivendare of Stratholme, a former landowner and nobleman who got corrupted by the plague, now a Deathknight in the scourge army. Standing on his left was a succubus who also serves as his comfort woman.

"The Mortal army is advancing fast. What should we do, Mal'Ganis?" asked Titus.

"With the sword already in his hand, all traces of his humanity shall diminish with every second he wields it. This is all a part of the plan, Rivendare." Said the dreadlord then laughed.

"Is us getting hacked to death by him also a part of it? Because that's what's going to happen if we just sit here and do nothing."

"Deathknight, I want you to summon a handful of your forces, make them stop defending the necropolis and move to Daggercap Bay."

Rivendare looked at the dreadlord with a confused stare.

"Why? What for? And what about you?"

"I want you to destroy their ships – make sure none of them goes home." said the Dreadlord.

Baron Titus Rivendare curtsied then walked away.

.

.

"Fire!" shouted Arthas, signaling the siege engines to destroy the remaining undead defensive structures as they advance towards the necropolis. The siege engines rained volleys of shells at the ziggurats and spirit towers. Mortar teams shot at undead army barracks while mages and riflemen shot at the undead. Arthas and his knights were hacking and slashing at any enemy they see. While they were fighting, they heard the roar of frost wyrms again. And from the sky, 4 frost wyrms came, ready to attack. Everyone was quaking in their boots at the sight of them but Arthas however, wasn't fazed one bit.

The frost wyrms wasted no time and dived down then puffed icicles simultaneously at Arthas and his army. But before the icicles could do damage, Arthas erected a holy shield that protected every one of his troops. When the undead dragons went on the offensive, they compromised the safety of their altitude and were now dangerously low enough to be shot at by the riflemen.

"Fire at will!" shouted the prince.

Everyone who had ranged implements shot at the undead dragons as fast as they could. The frost wyrms tried to climb back up but were witted down and all of them ultimately crashed on the ground, dead.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Screamed the prince, all pumped up and full of energy.

The fleeing undead flocked themselves at the stairway of the necropolis to defend the Dreadlord who resided at the top. All the surviving undead took their respective positions all over the stairway to defend it, now the stairs are full to the brim with undead units willing to die to slow down the army's advance. As the army pushed further, the defending undead roared and grunted in unison to warn Arthas's forces to back off. The verbal warnings did not work in the slightest though – the turrets of the siege engines aimed at the stairs of the necropolis and rained volleys of incendiary tracer shells and killed scores of them when they landed. Arthas and his knights formed a shield wall as the undead forces tried to charge and pursue the ranged units and the siege engines. When the undead slammed against the knights, they were easily killed. And with Arthas's Frostmourne in hand, the waves of undead had no chance of even dealing a bit of damage to the troops – they ultimately retreated back to the stairways of the necropolis only to get blasted by the siege engines.

The slaughter continued on until the last ghoul on the stairway was blasted by shells.

"Cease fire!" commanded the Prince holding his hand up, Captain Falric and Marwyn were standing alongside him.

"So, this is it, huh? It's finally going be over." asked the Captain.

Arthas who was looking up the topmost part of the necropolis chuckled in a deep raspy voice that creeped out his knights. "No, it's over when I say it is." He said.

"What do you mean, milord?"

Arthas ignored him and stormed towards the stairway. "Everyone stay put, I want to savor this vengeance on my own. Or hell, go back to the basecamp if you want – don't care." He said, again in a deep raspy voice.

"Milord, are you alright?" asked Marwyn.

"Didn't you hear me? You have your orders!" shouted the prince at the weary knight.

They all reluctantly bowed and went their way. The hungry and overly worn out forces intended to go to the basecamp except for captain Falric who stayed behind and stood in attention, waiting for the prince.

"Mal'ganis!" shouted Arthas angrily as he neared the top of the necropolis.

The prince ascended up the stairs until he saw the Dreadlord chilling on a throne with a fairly beautiful looking demon woman caressing his head. The prince looked at him silently with a grim stair, his emerald eyes tinted with blue from the sword's influence.

"There's nowhere to hide, vile demon.

Mal'ganis stood up, his succubus standing beside him.

"Oh, how ironic for you to call me 'Vile demon' when you yourself are one." he said then giggled. "Or at least…soon." His giggles turned into full on laughter.

Arthas got enraged at the Dreadlord. And without warning, charged at him full of zeal and intent to kill. He ran at him holding the sword with both hands in a longsword 's grip and when he got close enough, he swung the sword with an uppercut slash. The Dreadlord however, quickly transformed into a bat and made the prince miss. The succubus saw the prince miss with his sword still high up from the momentum and quickly exploited it by casting a charm spell on him; she casted by blowing him a kiss.

The spell staggered the prince for a second but the seductive temptation from the charm spell wasn't able to break Arthas's will.

"Sorry, miss. I'm taken." He said.

He grabbed the succubus by the throat and plunged the blade through her chest. She moaned in pain as the frost blade got acquainted with her innards. Arthas then proceeded to push the blade further up until the sword sliced through her entire torso.

As he was cutting her up, the dreadlord appeared behind him and laughed loudly. "There you go. Let the evil flow through you."

Upon hearing him, Arthas quickly withdrew the blade from the succubus and swung the sword behind him slashing through the Dreadlord's neck, severing it. Mal'ganis's dead headless body collapsed on the black floor and stiffened while blood came spurting from his severed neck. His head fell first on its horn making a dull clanking sound.

.

.

Muradin, Sylvanas and Cicero exited the portal and got thrown out of the Forsaken Vault. As everyone was dusting themselves off, they suddenly heard loud explosions that came from the far south. They were surprised at this because the battles the Alliance's army were fighting were up north, where Mal'ganis's basecamp was at.

"What was that?" asked the elf.

"Must be cannons providing artillery support?" said Muradin.

Cicero casted clairvoyance and saw Arthas's location was far up north to the blighted forests.

"Arthas is up north. They can't possibly be on the beach. Wait… But nobody except the ship captains are aboard the ships! How can they even operate the cannons on their own?"

"Yeah, and the only ship that has them is the one we rode on." Said Sylvanas.

"Reinforcements from Proudmoore's navy?" said the dwarf.

"Well, it's either that or…" Cicero's mouth was ajar momentarily and his eyes widened.

"What?" asked the elf.

"Our ships maybe under attack. You two should check it out."

"Us? What about you? You should come with us." asked Windrunner.

"I'm hurt- I'm just going to slow you two down. I'm going to find Arthas."

Sylvanas felt extremely worried at what Cicero just said. "But…"

"Please, you have to trust me." Said the redhead then turned his back at them and started limping.

Sylvanas worried that he was going to fight Arthas which she thought was a terrible idea on his behalf considering he was hurt on 2 limbs and most of all, Arthas had the advantage of Frostmourne. The Blade of Woe versus Frostmourne? She thought. Cicero told her in Andorhal that The Blade of Woe is a blade that never needed sharpening ever since the first wielder, Lucien Lachance, offered it to The Hero of Kvatch. The dagger was 400 years old and was used by countless people, and to think that it never needed sharpening only tells the level of durability it has. She had however experienced battle far longer than Cicero to know that a weapon is just as good as its wielder. She knew Cicero is in no fighting condition and will very likely lose to Arthas even if the blade he's holding is stronger than frostmourne which she also doubts judging from the level of magical energy she sensed in the sword. Not to mention, Cicero's dagger was going up against an oversized monstrosity of a sword.

"Cicero…"

She was going to say what Medivh told her but she felt that it wasn't the right time. The words 'The bane of Frostmourne comes when it finally meets the break of dawn' did not make sense to her in the slightest but then she realized that from Medivh's last words that it was Cicero who will bring forth the sword's undoing.

The redhead turned.

"Be careful." She said then turned and walked towards daggercap bay. Muradin followed.

"You know me. I always am!" confidently shouted Cicero as she and Muradin departed.

.

.

**Daggercap bay, 2 hours later.**

Fortunately, when the dwarf and the elf were running towards Daggercap where the Northern Fleet is anchored at, they did not encounter any hostiles when they went. Sylvanas Windrunner's foot-long pointed elven ears protruding from her hood tingled as they approached the beach.

"hush!" whispered Sylvanas to the dwarf, prompting him to crouch down.

"What?" he whispered. He noticed the elf's breathing was shallow and rapid and there was sweat dripping down her forehead.

"The ships… I think they're on fire." She said. Her elven ears tingled again. "Ready your weapons, we got company."

The elf readied her bow while Muradin drew out his maul and axe. They walked, trying their best to muffle their sounds until they finally reached a clearing. They both were in shock at what they were seeing – the galleys were all on fire. On the beach were ghouls and crypt fiends helping themselves with the mangled remains of the ship captains and deckhands who were supposed to be tasked to maintain the ship until the mission was done. Each of the corpses were getting eaten at different styles by the undead: the ghouls gorged on them while the crypt fiends injected digestive juices inside the corpses until they got dissolved within, turning them into soup for the spiders.

"Oh no…" she said then inhaled trying to hold back tears. "How are we going to get home." she said worryingly.

"What about that ship?"

"where?"

He pointed his index finger to his right towards a large ship whose hull got jammed onto a large boulder. Sylvanas looked and saw it – the ship they rode on when they voyaged to Northrend, still intact and not burning.

"Quickly, let's kill those things before they burn our only ride home." said the elf, drawing an arrow.

They both came out from the blighted trees and started attacking the unsuspecting undead. Sylvanas shot 3 arrows drawn simultaneously at 3 crypt fiends, killing them. Muradin charged at a group of feasting ghouls and quickly killed them with his maul and axe.

"That takes care of them." Said the dwarf as he pulled out his axe from a ghoul he just killed.

"Wait, that's not all of them."

"What do you mean?"

Hiding behind one of the burning galleys, Baron Rivendare came out and blasted Muradin with a necromantic spell _Death Coil. _The spell impacted with Muradin's back and enveloped the dwarf's body with dark energy. He got thrown away by the transfer of momentum of the spell upon impact. He was now lying motionless on the sands. Sylvanas quickly drew out 3 arrows and shot them at Rivendare's general direction but the deathknight quickly took cover behind the burning galley's hull.

"You fool! I was going to burn the last ship until you people came snuffling in." said the Baron.

"Show yourself, coward!" shouted the elf with 3 more arrows drawn.

Rivendare quickly went out of cover and casted another Death Coil spell towards Sylvanas. She however was too quick and shot the arrows while she dodge-rolled the spell, making him miss. One of the black arrows she shot hit him but it didn't penetrate through his plate armour. The baron laughed then charged at her with his sword in hand.

She drew out another arrow and infused it with frost then shot it at the knight hitting him on the shoulder. Again, the arrow glanced off because his massive pauldrons were rounded. The hit did stagger him a bit and made him flinch but not enough to deter him. He was getting dangerously close and she knew she was less armoured than him so she decided to make a smart move by fleeing and running towards the beached ship. That way, she can surprise him with sneak attacks as he pursued her.

"Come back here, pretty girl!" said the Baron laughingly as he chased her.

Sylvanas ran and ran as fast as she could until she reached the boulder. She climbed up the rock and held on to the chain connecting the anchor and climbed it until she was up the ship's deck. She then quickly drew an arrow.

"After I kill you, I will rape your corpse, elf!" shouted the baron. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle!"

She was getting very annoyed by the baron's perverted comments and decided to shut him up. The elf drew out a frost infused arrow and pointed down the railings searching for the deathknight but all she could see was sand. As she was aiming and searching, she suddenly felt a surge of dark energy hit her on her back almost making her fall down the deck and down the sands below. Her bow however fell down towards the sands, leaving her without her primary weapon.

The baron appeared behind her watching the elf in a compromising position. He approached her, lifted her hood and pulled her up by grabbing onto her hair. She screamed in response as her hair was getting uprooted by the deathknight.

"Shut up!" shouted the baron.

He formed a fist and punched her on her stomach, denting her breastplate and knocking the wind out of her. She then dropped down on her knees.

"You know what time it is?" said the baron.

He dropped his sword, removed his helmet then approached her. She pulled her again on her hair to lift her up making her scream. With his right hand pulling her hair he put his other hand on her face, caressing it.

"You're such a beautiful elf. How would you like a nobleman have his way with you?" asked the baron.

Sylvanas responded by spitting on his face.

This angered the baron so he punched her in the gut again which made her nauseous. This time however, the elf got back by projectile vomiting on his face and into his eyes! Corrosive stomach acids burned through the baron's eyes making him squirm in pain.

Sylvanas was hurt but she knew she hurt him more and took this opportunity to strike: she grabbed her dagger sheathed on her belt and stabbed it through the deathknight's chin as hard as she could. The dagger pierced through his mouth, through his nasal cavity, and finally into his brain.

"No." she shook her head with a smirk on her face. "No, I'm happily taken." She said then winked at the baron before withdrawing her dagger and stabbing it across his ear, killing him instantly.

Baron Rivendare now lies dead on the deck of the ship.

"Windrunner! Where are you, lass!" shouted Muradin from below.

"I'm on the deck! It's all clear, he's dead!"

.

.

**Meanwhile at Mal'ganis's basecamp.**

Captain Falric and Cicero climbed up the stairs of the necropolis only to find Prince Arthas sitting on the floor beside Mal'ganis's corpse. He was caressing the bloodied blade with his gloved hands.

"Arthas, we sure showed him, didn't we?" said Cicero looking at the dreadlord's headless body.

"Milord, you did it! He's dead! Wait… are you alright, sire." the Captain said.

Arthas was silent, he didn't even much as look up at them. He instead continued to caress the sword. He momentarily snapped out from his trance and looked up at them with a very anxious expression.

"You all need to leave." He said in his normal voice but in a worried tone. Sweat dripping from his forehead. "All of you… you need to return home."

Captain Falric was weirded out by this because when they pursued the undead, Arthas's voice sounded deep and raspy. Now his normal voice had returned, he started to wonder what was going on with the prince. He also noticed that his emerald eyes lost its blue tint.

"Milord?"

Falric then saw the prince's eyes and noticed the blue tint return. Arthas stood up slowly. As he did, he let his unkempt hair fall down on his face. Falric also saw white on the ends of his long blonde hair becoming more noticeable as he approached him.

"Arthas, come on now. It's all over – let's all go home together." said Cicero.

Arthas ignored him and continued advancing towards his captain. He then put one hand on the captain's pauldron before reaching for the captain's helmet and removing it then throwing it aside. Cicero looked and saw Falric's weary facial features: his eyes were bloodshot, his auburn hair and beard were unkempt, and he had bags under his eyes. Arthas, without warning, backhanded the Captain with his armoured left hand making the captain drop down on the obsidian floor.

"Arthas, what's gotten into you!" said Cicero.

The prince looked at him, smirked, then momentarily turned his back.

"It's the sword! It's controlling you!"

"Frostmourne says you are the one who will contest me for it." Arthas said.

"No, why would I…"

The prince then suddenly spun and delivered a quick swing at the redhead with the sword, Frostmourne. Cicero however was quick enough to raise his blade, The Blade of Woe, and parried the blow then sidestepped. Arthas then swung again upward but Cicero leaned back, barely missing by a few millimeters from his throat. The prince let out an angry grunt and with his free arm, managed to backhand Cicero in the face, rocking him and making him slip as he tried to back away.

"I should have never healed you. Should have left you for dead!" shouted Arthas before swinging the sword at the downed Cicero. The redhead suddenly turned invisible and quickly rolled away, making Arthas miss. As the sword made contact with the floor, the floor cracked and a few obsidian splinters hit Cicero on the face.

"This again?" said Arthas in a deep raspy voice then laughed. "Show yourself and face me like a man!"

Cicero said nothing. He slowly got up and then limped away from the prince whilst being invisible.

"You are Sylvanas's lover, eh? You're supposed to be the big swinging dick, man! Oh, how disappointed she would be if she see's you in this… Cowardly state! Fight me! Let's see who is the better man to wield the sword!" he shouted angrily.

Cicero finally appeared behind him and spoke. "Arthas, snap out of it! I don't want to fight you!"

"Oh, crafty Cicero. Acting all self-righteous and what not. You know your end goal is to misdirect me, just waiting to plunge that dagger of yours at the right time."

"No, come on now. Stop this madness and let's all go home."

Arthas turned and quickly swung the sword again. Cicero leaned back but the point of the sword grazed him on his right cheek. He tried to sidestep but his dislocated ankle prevented him from doing so and made him slip and fall on the floor again. Arthas approached Cicero then raised his sword.

"I thought you're supposed to be a worthy opponent." He said then chuckled. "I can't believe Sylvanas fell for a weakling like you" he said mockingly then laughed. "Ready to die?"

Cicero got angered then suddenly pointed the dagger at the prince and casted a paralysis spell on him before he turned invisible. The paralysis spell hit Arthas but only made his entire body weaken, making him drop the sword and stumble down to one knee. He however managed to quickly regain his strength and retrieve the sword. As he straightened up, Cicero suddenly appeared in front of him, casted stoneflesh, torqued his body, and delivered a hard punch to the prince's face.

Arthas felt like he got just hit by a gauntleted fist in the face even though Cicero only wore gloves. The prince got knocked out and dropped to the floor unconscious. The sword was now on the floor, the sockets of the goat skull on the hilt stopped glowing blue. Cicero limped towards the sword so he can throw it away from Arthas's reach, but as he got closer, he began to feel temptation. His breathing became heavy as he marveled at the sword. He tried to resist by looking away but then he got tempted more as dark energies from the spirits of Northrend enveloped him.

"Come, all the power you could ever imagine, all within your reach." Said a very deep gutural voice in his head as he got even closer: The sword was talking to him.

The temptation Cicero was feeling was so intense and immediately overwhelmed him, despite his best efforts to resist. He bent over and touched the pommel. As he made contact with the sword, the goat skull on the hilt glowed red. His hazel eyes also turned to glowing red. As Cicero was about to grab the handle, he heard another voice, not from the sword, but that from Nathanos.

"Stop!" the voice said.

Cicero then remembered Nathanos when he gave him his bow as the Ranger Lord's life slipped away atop a balcony in Stratholme. The sad memory made Cicero snap out as his red glowing eyes turned back to hazel. He looked up and saw Nathanos's ghost, he was not alone though as standing beside him was Medivh's ghost.

"Don't let our sacrifice be for naught. Please, remember your promise." Said Nathanos.

He looked down at the sword and noticed the red glow on the skull disappeared.

"How do I destroy the sword?" he asked, but when he looked back up, they were gone.

Cicero then suddenly got tackled on the back making him fall face first on the obsidian floor. He quickly rolled to his back and saw it was Arthas – he had woken up. Arthas got into full mount and started to punch him in the face with his gloved hand until he was dazed and bleeding from the head. The prince stood up, grabbed the blade and raised it. Cicero saw the sockets of the skull glow blue light once more as the prince held it. Arthas's eyes were also glowing blue as he pointed the sword at him, ready to deliver a thrust.

"Frostmourne says you're not worthy." Said Arthas.

Cicero was too dazed to fight and knew it was the end for him. He closed his eyes as he braced himself. He waited but the killing blow didn't come, he did however hear Arthas suddenly scream. He opened his eyes and saw the prince drop the sword and hold his head with both hands while squirming. He noticed that his deep raspy voice had turned back to his normal one.

"Kill me! Kill me! Kill me before it's too late!" shouted the prince as he held his head.

Cicero slowly got back up and healed himself. He then drew out his dagger pointed it at Arthas and casted paralysis, making him drop to the floor. He then limped towards the downed prince and raised the dagger above the back of his head. Cicero's arm was shaking as he raised the dagger.

"Quickly! do it!"

His entire body trembled at the thought of him killing the young prince.

"I… I can't!" he said then put his hand down.

"Last mistake." Said the prince in a deep raspy voice as he went back to his demonic trance.

"Oh shi…"

The blade flew and placed itself on Arthas's hand. Upon seeing this, Cicero used his dagger to block as Arthas swung the blade at him: The Blade of Woe then collided with the blade of Frostmourne. Cicero got thrown away by the momentum of the swing. When the two blades collided, **The Blade of Woe broke into shards**.

Cicero who was slowly getting up, couldn't believe it – the Blade of Woe, destroyed. He had no more means of defending himself except for his alteration and illusion spells. The bow he always had on his back was left on the tent in the basecamp down south. He also knew, he can't survive a fight with him using hand-to-hand martial arts considering he still had his twisted ankle and dislocated shoulder. Fortunately for him, Arthas broke free from his trance again.

Arthas dropped the sword. He looked around and saw Captain Falric on the floor.

"Oh no! what have I done?" he said in an anxious tone. He turned to the redhead. "Please, I'm not going to warn you again… lead my men home. Please, my friend." He said whilst breathing heavy.

Cicero nodded then limped towards Falric. He healed him quickly and shook him to wake him up.

"Captain, we need to go."

The captain's eyes opened wide.

"What about our prince?"

Arthas jumped in. "No, I can't. All of you should leave this place and go home…tell my father…"

They both looked at the prince. His emerald eyes tinted with blue getting teary.

"Tell my father…His son is dead. Also… tell Jaina… I love her." He said. He reached for the buckle of his belt and tore off the heraldry on it then tossed it towards the Captain. "Take this to Uther."

"Aye, sir."

Cicero stood up and looked at him in the eyes. "We will come back for you, Arthas. Mark my words. We will free you."

"Leave…" he held his head once more and started pulling on his hair. "Leave now! This is your last warning. I can't hold it much longer."

They both curtsied then left, leaving the prince to wander around Northrend all by himself with nothing but the sword to keep him company.

.

.

.

**To be continued.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Beautiful Dawn**

.

.

.

Cicero and Captain Falric were on their way to the basecamp, leaving Arthas all alone atop the necropolis as commanded by the prince himself. Cicero felt down and disappointed at himself for being overwhelmed by the sword and his inability to destroy it. He also felt like he failed Medivh and let the prophet's sacrifice go to waste and be all for nothing. When Cicero and Arthas fought, he had 2 chances to kill the prince but he just couldn't make himself do it because Arthas was his friend and owed his life to him after the prince healed him when he fell 50 meters from the air. Even if he was able to kill Arthas, which he thought was unethical – killing the person who just saved his life, he thought he never would have resisted the sword's temptation anyway and he ultimately would have been controlled by the sword thus making his nightmare come true.

He then thought about what to do next and how to beat the sword and what should he use to do so. When he first arrived in Azeroth, he noticed every single melee weapon wielded by everyone were large clunky ones that were heavy towards the end. He never saw anyone wield a weapon that was compact and nimble looking like a longsword – everything had to be oversized. Cicero was used to handling weapons that were made to be compact, dense and made to have weight distributions suitable for tasks like half swording, slicing, and chopping. High mass and low-volume melee implements enabled the wielder to swing and deal damage without the weapon's size hindering the wielder's vision.

He first thought about using a longsword against Arthas. Longswords are used to defeat armour by a technique called 'Half-swording' where the wielder has the option to hold the sword by the blade and use it parry and to have more control over the point and drive it in the gaps of armour. The longsword can also be turned into an improvised mace by holding it by the blade and striking with the hilt or the pommel. He then thought that it was the perfect weapon if he intends to kill Arthas which he doesn't want.

What about a mace? He thought. Maces were used to also defeat armour as a bludgeoning implement but were easier to use compared to a longsword. Again, it was a good option if he intends to kill him. What about a war axe? He thought. War axes can destroy swords when a sharp and heavy enough head comes in contact with a sword's blade.

As he was thinking about weapons that can beat an oversized clunky magical sword, his thoughts were interrupted when Captain Falric spoke.

"Cicero, don't feel down. Thank the Light we survived. Live to fight another day, right?" said the Captain, smiling at the frowning redhead.

Cicero thought hard and realized there was still hope: they can still save Arthas and there could be a way to destroy Frostmourne. But not now, but some other time.

"I admire your Prince, he's very strong. He broke free from the sword's temptation many times."

The captain let out a sigh.

"Yes, but it's a shame, isn't it?"

Cicero's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"He has the potential to be a good king. But…" he sighed again. "You know and I know, he has to die, right? It's the only way."

"I beg to differ, Captain. We will destroy that sword and Arthas will be free. There's always a way."

"Man, you sound like Jaina Proudmoore. I wish I had the same optimism as you two though."

"To her defense, people like her are on top of the societal hierarchy with thousands of soldiers at their disposal, so it's easy to feel that way when you're not a pawn. She hasn't experienced what we just gone through: hungry, tired and worn out while being forced beyond the limits of human endurance… I don't feel optimistic in the slightest, to be honest with you. I'm just recognizing the fact that there are plenty of ways to attain something."

They both stopped for a moment then the captain looked at him in the eyes.

"Do you really think we can save our prince?"

"I know so." He said then smiled.

Cicero and Falric walked until they were halfway towards the basecamp. While the captain helped him out by carrying his shoulder, they met Marwyn who was running towards them shouting about the burned ships. They could hear the clanking of armour as the knight ran.

"Marwyn!" shouted Falric.

"They're gone! They're gone!" he shouted from a distance as he ran towards them.

The two stopped and waited for Marwyn to get close enough. When he arrived, the exhausted knight doubled over and panted.

"Woah, slow down. Stand up straight: you'll take in more air that way… now, what happened?" said captain Falric.

"The galleys… they're all burned!"

"Was Sylvanas there?" asked Cicero.

"Yes, she and the dwarf managed to only save the ship. Damn! Those undead really want us dead."

Cicero exhaled in relief knowing that the elf was alive.

"Where's his majesty?" asked Marwyn.

Captain Falric and Cicero eyed each other for a moment then looked at the weary Knight.

"He's not coming with us. It's his command." Said the captain.

"Wh…what? Why?"

"Go on ahead and ask him then, he's still up there, I will assure you that you'll regret it." Said the redhead.

"Oh, okay. Must not violate his majesty's order then… but why would he…"

"We'll tell you on our way home, alright?" said Falric.

The knight replied with a nod.

.

.

.

**Dusk**

"Push!" Shouted Muradin who was on the ship's deck, as 4 siege engines tried to push the ship to the sea.

The remnants of the Lordaeron Alliance army and Muradin's expeditionary forces were all but 20 knights including Marywn and Falric, 30 riflemen, and 1 remaining mage. To make the ship move much easier, the knights cut some logs from the canopy of trees, carried them and made a trail of logs on the shore where the ship's hull will roll on. That way, the siege engines will not exert too much force and break down.

Cicero was lying down on a bedroll getting his ankle and shoulder realigned. Sylvanas was wiping the sweat from his face but not in an intimate way so as to not rouse suspicion from the soldiers about their relationship. There was a cloth tied around his armpit and shoulder which will be pulled by Falric and his arms will be pulled away from him by Marwyn.

"Again?" asked The Captain.

"Yeah. Marwyn, pull harder this time." Said the redhead.

Marwyn suddenly pulled hard then Falric followed by pulling on the cloth tied around his armpit. Cicero wailed in agony in response. Sylvanas could only watch and wipe Cicero's sweat from his head to help. The elf couldn't bare seeing him suffer and the sight was pulling on her heartstrings.

Marwyn stopped pulling. "Man, your muscles are way too stiff. You need to relax."

Sylvanas knew that her stroking his hair and caressing his face always made him relax but she couldn't do it to him now - not in front of the soldiers.

"Can you just paralyze yourself?" asked the elf.

"Oh, yeah. Good idea." Said the redhead.

A green ball of light shone on Cicero's right palm as he placed it on his injured shoulder. He closed his eyes and braced himself before blasting himself with paralysis. His whole body limped as his brain and body got temporarily severed from each other.

"Now, pull!" said the Captain.

Marwyn pulled on his arm then Falric followed by pulling the cloth. Loud pops were heard as his shoulder was realigned adjacent to his head.

"I think it's done." Said Falric.

When the paralysis wore out, Cicero slowly moved raised his left arm – his shoulder was fixed.

"Thanks, guys." He said to the 2 knights.

"You're welcome. Now, let's fix your foot." Said the captain.

"Aw, man. Here we go again."

.

.

The siege engines roared when they went on full throttle as they pushed on the hull in unison. Slowly, the hull came in contact with the log rollers and the propellers submerged themselves in deeper water. The siege engines continued pushing until more of the ship's underbelly came in contact with the log rollers. Loud creeks could be heard as the ship slip down slowly.

The engines pushed harder, then finally, the ship slid towards the water. Everyone watching cheered and shouted in joy.

"We're going home, men! We're going home!" shouted Muradin.

.

.

.

**In Lordaeron**

Jaina Proudmoore was led to Prince Arthas's room by Princess Calia for her to sleep for the night. She had recently talked to his father, King Terenas II, about withdrawing the Northern Fleet from Northrend and make Arthas go home. Unfortunately, the king was very obstinate, unwilling to change his mind about his son's campaign. She however managed to convince the king to give Arthas's Northrend expedition 1 month before he can send an extraction team for them and allow Jaina's father to aid so they can go on a search and rescue operation to the region just in case the campaign didn't go Arthas's way. She thought The King's obstinacy was hard to deal with to the point where out of desperation, Jaina almost lied to him about being pregnant with Arthas's child just so he can consider sending his son home. She thought this would've definitely worked but it was still a lie with too much negative consequences. At the end of the day, she at least got something.

"So, this is Arthas's room. This is where you will sleep. You okay with that?" Said Calia, opening the door for Jaina.

"Yes, this is perfect."

They both entered. Jaina was in awe at how fancy the prince's room was: His armoires had ornate cravings on its doors; his bed had a king size mattress and pillows made with the finest cloths from Gilneas; the chandeliers up the ceiling were bright and shone like the noon sun. They both sat down on the bed.

"Well, it's gonna be where you both be staying at when you two get married." Said Calia with a smirk on her face then chuckled as she ran her hands on the soft mattress.

Jaina's heart leaped for a moment at the thought of her and Arthas marrying, but him not returning from Northrend was still a possibility which made the feeling go away as soon as it came. She couldn't understand why Calia wasn't worried about her brother in the slightest.

Jaina only forced a smile in response but Calia noticed the worry in her eyes.

Calia stopped smirking and let out a sigh. "Jaina, I really appreciate you convincing my father to do something. I pray to The Light every day. I always pray that my brother be kept safe and that he be kept safe from himself."

Jaina touched the mattress and ran her hands on it, feeling its softness. "Me too. 1 month is the least your father will give him before he sends an extraction team to get them. I wish it would've been sooner."

"Let's just not give up hope. The Light is with him, Jaina. It was with you both during the plague campaign; I'm sure The Light is with him right now as we speak."

Jaina replied with another forced smile. "I guess you're right."

The two suddenly heard a gentle knock on the door.

"Lady Proudmoore, Princess Calia, dinner is ready." Said a guard.

"Coming!" said Calia. She then turned to Jaina.

"Come on, let's go." She said then they both went.

.

.

.

**5 days later.**

The high elven councils of Silvermoon, mainly the House of Salonar, had been very hard at work with studying the scroll on the outskirts of Quel'thalas. The scroll has still not moved despite the best efforts of the magisters to lift it and take it inside silvermoon. Grand Magister Belo'vir, Magister Dar'khan Drathir and Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider have been frustrated with the object's persistence to resist every form of magic they throw at it.

In a secret meeting in silvermoon palace, Dar'khan Drathir stated to the council and Silver Circle that the visitor had been identified as a man named "Cicero of Cyrodiil." This was classified information and was only recently relayed to the Farstriders when the Silver Circle decided to put Cicero under arrest for the smuggling of potentially dangerous magical objects. Their real reason for arresting him was based on the idea that he may hold the knowledge of the scroll's whereabouts and what it really was used for.

In the recently quarantined Stratholme, to help finance the city's coffers, people in the city began making and exporting Sweetrolls to the Various Kingdoms of the Alliance. Some of the sweetrolls even reached Quel'thalas and even Silvermoon city itself via portals. The traders told the elven businessowners who bought the sweets stories of Arthas and his men's heroism and how they were thankful for the Farstriders (High Elven Rangers including Nathanos) helping out Lordaeron's army. On one occasion, Kael'thas himself had invited the sweetroll traders inside Silvermoon palace to tell stories of what had happened in Stratholme, specifically about Sylvanas and her rangers and what did they do when they fought there. One of them stated she was with a Red-haired man. The man was described to have fought like a mix between a rogue, a paladin, and a mage. The stories from the traders only confirmed Drathir's claim that the red-haired visitor had interests with Sylvanas which was a matter of delving into.

Lor'themar Theron and Halduron Brightwing of the Farstrider rangers have been ordered by Prince Kael'Thas to go to Stratholme in a covert operation to seek information about Cicero. Unfortunately, when they rode a portal that was supposed to port them to the city, they were instead ported to Stormwind by mistake and they landed on the Valley of Heroes. They realized they were in deep trouble and that the mission will take longer due to a simple miscalculation. When they tried to enter the city to ask for mages to cast a portal for them, the Stormwind guards prevented them from entering due to fact that they were immediately identified as Farstriders and that Stormwind wouldn't allow a military entity of one kingdom visit the city without an agreement between the two's kings, in this case, King Varian Wrynn and King Anasterian. They both were forced to head to the east towards Elwynn Forest.

"You dolt!" shouted Theron.

"It wasn't my fault - It was Liadryn's apprentice who put us here… stupid kid." Replied Brightwing.

Theron let out a sigh. "Where are we going to get a portal from here? We need to head back home and re-enter the portal."

"Home? no. Kael'thas will have our hide. We need a portal to Stratholme."

"We're in the middle of a forest, where can we find a mage?" Asked Theron.

"Goldshire? Yeah, the Lion's pride inn in Goldshire."

Lor'themar winced and cringed at what Brighwing suggested.

"Oh, my goodness, No! not there. That place is filled with weirdoes! People in there pay thousands of gold just to suck on a Night elf woman's feet… who does that? A crazy person I wouldn't ever want to talk to, that's who."

"It's not like we have any other choice. It's were adventurers hang out. It's the only place close enough where we'll very likely find a mage."

"Hmm. Alright, but we only have 300 gold 20 silver and 10 copper. What are we going offer him or her if it's not enough?"

Brightwing let out a sigh. "Ourselves?"

Theron cringed again. "No, I'll be dead before that."

.

.

.

**At sea.**

It was 2 hours past midnight. The alliance's army boarded the ship and were now on their way to Stratholme. The ship captain who was supposed to keep watch on the vessel while the campaign took place got killed by the Deathknight Baron Titus Rivendare during the last encounter. Fortunately for them, the ship itself was a vessel bought from Ironforge and was made with dwarven technology and the dwarves from Muradin's forces knew how to troubleshoot it and get it running smoothly. Captaining the ship was a siege engine driver and his lookout was a rifleman scout.  
When the army boarded the ship, the captain thought it was a must for everyone to lighten the load since they were too many, as a result: the siege engines had to be abandoned and blown up; the dwarves had to abandon their rifles and mortars; the knights had to remove their armours and leave behind their swords leaving them to be wearing only their basic doublets and hoses. Every ounce counted when they wished for the ship to survive a long voyage from Northrend to Stratholme.

Sylvanas was lying on a hammock near a porthole just below the deck wearing only the clothes she had under her armour since she was not spared from the mandatory load reduction. She was wearing a crop top and leather pants. Her bow and quiver and dagger hung beside adjacent to where one end of the hammock hanged. 2 hours ago, she couldn't sleep because she was forced to listen to Marwyn, Muradin, and Falric on the mess hall, drinking. The gathering wasn't joyous as she expected but rather was filled with sadness, anger and grief. There was no laughter, no singing or drunken brawls, just arguing, crying, and lamenting among them as they talked about Arthas and how he was probably be dead or what may be happening to him as they spoke. Falric said Arthas was about to kill him and Cicero but were spared as the prince fought off the sword's influence, giving both of them time to escape before the sword took over him again.

The elf was left pondering for an hour until the boredom and silence made her drowsy. As her eyes closed, she was woken up by Cicero's voice and the plucking of lute strings from the deck - He was singing up there all by himself about '_Cliffracers_" and how majestic they were.

"_...Cliffracers fly so high in the sky..." _sang Cicero up the deck accompanied by lute melodies.

She was in awe that Cicero can sing and thought that his voice and lute skills were very good and was on par with bards from the Goldshire inn. She wanted to listen closer. Her bare feet hit the wooden floor and then she silently tiptoed her way to the ship's bridge so as to not wake the sleeping soldiers. She gently opened the bridge's door.

The elf saw Cicero sitting on a chair on the mast on the deck near the railings and was facing towards the dark sea. His magelight spell was hovering above his head. He held a lute and was about to sing another song.  
The next song he sang was an old Tamrielic folk song that soldiers of old sang during the_ Interregnum_ in the second era and during the _Oblivion Crisis_ in the late third era.

As the elf listened intently to the melody and the words, she began to get a bit teary. The lyrics tell about the grim realities of war and that despite of it all, hope still exists. The song was relatable to what they experienced from the battles of Brill, Heartglenn, Andorhal and Stratholme to the Batlles they fought recently in Northrend. She also heard words that coincide with what The Prophet Medivh said.

_A serpent lights the ancient sky  
A threat of tainted stars  
Evil stirs and in its wake the souls of mortals sway _

_Sorrow reigns  
Over fields of red  
Spirits pace  
Through the shadows cast by their graves _

_These are days and nights of venom and blood  
Heroes will rise as the anchors fall  
Brave the strife, reclaim every soul  
That belongs to the _**_Beauty of Dawn_**

_Darkness strikes to blind the strong  
But Faith will guide our swords  
Loyal hearts we'll stand as one  
And fight with shields of hope _

_Pride fuels the deadly fire  
That devours our tower of gold  
The drums of war will rage and roar  
'Til the sun burns bright once more _

_These are days and nights of venom and blood  
Heroes will rise as the anchors fall  
Brave the strife, reclaim every soul  
That belongs to the _**_Beauty of Dawn._**

Cicero suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and another on his hair, the sensation making him tingle. He looked to his right shoulder and saw a pale-yellow hand with red nail polish. When he leaned back, the back of his head felt warm as it rested against the warm skin of the elf's exposed midriff. The cold breeze of fresh air then smelled of _Dragon's Tounge _flowers as Sylvanas's long blonde hair swayed with the early morning wind.

Sylvanas bent forward, embracing him from behind while he sat, her supple breasts resting themselves on the back of Cicero's neck.

"Sylvanas, what are you doing out here? It's cold." He said then gently put the lute down.

"You have your light spell to keep us warm, so I won't have to worry about that. Anyway, I didn't know you were good at singing. Did you write that?"

Cicero can feel the elf's heartbeat through her bosom resting on the back of his neck.

"The Dragonborn taught me."

She playfully pinched him on his left cheek.

"Who's prettier, me or her?"

"You, of course. It's a no-brainer." He said then smirked. "Anyway, that was an old folk song written by a Nord bard some 2 thousand years ago, I think. It was sang to remember Tamriel's darkest days: when the Daedric prince, _Molag-Bal_ invaded tamriel and when another daedric prince named _Mehrunes Dagon_ tried to do the same. Millions of people died on the first and even much more people died in the second. But despite of them all, men, mer and beastfolk: the people of Tamriel always found a way."

"Your people must've been very resilient and strong… like you, right?" she said, running her fingers gently on the outlines of his face.

"What about your people? did they ever experience something the same?" he asked.

"Yes we did, during the 2 wars with the horde. I've been in the second. I'll tell you some other time, it just tears my heart thinking about it." said the elf.

"Sure, sweetie."

Cicero took Sylvanas's left hand with both of his, put it close to his lips and kissed it.

She sighed. "Thank The Sunwell you're alive, my love. What were you thinking? Fighting Arthas injured? You could have died."

He let her hand go and let her embrace him once more with both of her arms.

"We had ample chances to kill each other during that fight, but we never managed to bring ourselves to do it. Arthas still has his humanity. As long as he has it, he still can be saved and so will the entirety of Azeroth."

A minute of awkward silence followed before Sylvanas straightened back up and let out a sigh then stretched her arms. She then considered about relaying the Prophet's words to him, but again, she felt it wasn't the right time. Medivh told her to say it to him when the time was right. When? Will there be signs? Will it be her gut feeling that will dictate the right time? She thought.

Cicero leaned back on her, resting his head on her midriff as he watched the dark sky slowly turn to dark blue. The elf pulled his head closer, running her fingers on his hair.

"Cicero, can I ask?

"Hmm?"

"Who is Sithis?" asked the elf.

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Sithis doesn't exist. But Sithis is present here in Azeroth as we speak."

"How so?"

He slowly stood up and faced the elf. The Amulet of Mara on his neck reflected the moonlight and the magelight, likewise with Sylvanas's sapphire necklace.

"Look at me; tell me what you see." said Cicero extending his arms sideways.

"Uh… alien, magic, uh…" she breathed in deep then smirked "Behind that shirt…" She wet her lips with her tongue. "Rock hard abs, bulky chest…" she said in a playfully seductive tone.

Cicero couldn't help himself but giggle. "Okay, I'm flattered. What about my qualities as a person?"

Sylvanas then got serious and looked at him in his hazel eyes. "Dependable, selfless… sane."

"You're getting it. Now, compare that to me when…" his lips pursed and looked down as he forced himself to look back at his dark past. "When I was…"

"I get it, let's not go too much in there." Said the elf then she gently raised his chin up.

"Thank you… Now, you combine them together. What do you see?"

"Darkness and light… good and evil… uhm…" she pondered more until… "Change!"

Cicero smiled. "Yes, exactly. Sithis is disorder; Sithis is change."

.

.

.

**To be continued.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Coming home.**

**This chapter has been changed**

.

.

.

The morning sun lit the trees of Stratholme. The chanticleers sounded while the local townsfolk and adventurers began to rise from their beds. The smell of roasting meat emanated from the chimneys as they prepared breakfast for another hard day of work rebuilding the city after the invasion of the Scourge and the destruction they caused by spreading the plague. The people of the city however were resilient and determined to make the city great again. Using the dispelled grains from Andorhal and the grains grown in the forests outside the city, they were able to feed themselves and even make copies of Sweetrolls and export them to Ironforge, Quel'thalas and Stormwind. The City's zoo housing thunder lizards, Kodo Beasts, Wildkins, Moonkins and Murlocs used to be an attraction for visitors and was slowly getting renovated to be re-opened for business in the near future.

Theron and Brightwing finally were ported to Stratholme when they 'convinced' a High Elven mage lady to cast a portal for them. They were ported to the City's main gate adjacent to a bridge under a moat. While they walked the stone bridge, they were talking about last night.

"I really appreciate you for your… uhm… you know. How we got here will not be placed on the Official logs, alright? What happened in the inn, stays at the inn – I got your back." Said Lor'thermar to Halduron.

"Aren't you gonna ask if I enjoyed it or not?" asked Halduron with a smirk in his face, his long elven ears under his long blonde hair turned 45 degrees as he remembered the night before.

"Oh, you sick bastard. Let's not ever talk about this again. Keep your fetishes to yourself."

At the gate, they saw 2 Lorderon Knights guarding. Lor'themar approached them.

"Hello, we are rangers from Quel'Thalas. We are here to have a survey on the conditions of the citizens. We would also like to talk to the ruling body here, is she or he around?" He said, lying to them.

"Why?" asked the Knight.

"So that we will know how much humanitarian aid our king will send. Is Uther the Lightbringer in charge of the city? We've been told that Baron Rivendare was taken by The Plague."

"Aid? Really? I've heard rumors that the Elves are leaving the Alliance."

"No, that's not true." Said Drathir.

"Pfft… figures. Uther is in Lordaeron. The Baron's son is in charge of the city right now. His name is Aurius Rivendare."

"Oh, okay. Can we please enter?"

The two guards looked at each other for a moment then gestured the two elves to enter the city.

"He's in the Silverhand building if you want to talk to him."

"Thank you." Said Theron. Both curtsied to the Knights before they went.

The two walked until they reached King's Square, dust from the ground rose to the air as wagons and horses strode about. They noticed there were less people compared to last year, they thought the plague must have hit the city very hard, yet, it was described that Arthas's campaign was a success: They could only imagine what the city would've looked like if Arthas campaign had not. They then walked further towards the festival district of the city. It used to be filled with performing artists, jugglers, jesters and exotic creatures from the zoo, the Thunder lizards of Dreanor that used to be a big draw among tourists were now being used to carry building materials and supply crates.

As they continued on, they stumbled across 2 young dirty looking urchin boys playing knight with wooden swords next to the entrance of a coffee shop. Both were wearing wigs made from the head of a mop. One boy's wig was dyed red and the other was yellow.

"I'm gonna be Arthas and you be the red ranger." Said one kid.

"Sure, I think the red ranger can beat Arthas anyway." Said the other.

The two elves watched the two play. The red wigged boy lunged forward with his sword while the boy with yellow wig statically blocked. The yellow wigged boy scrambled, outflanking the other, letting the wig fall from his head.

The red wigged boy raised his hands. "I am now invisible! you can't see me now."

"No fair!"

The 2 elves approached the two boys but kept their distance by few feet because they were grossed out.

"Hey children, what are you two doing?" asked Lor'themar.

They looked at the 2 elves who towered on them, they immediately were intimidated and frightened by the two.

"Oh, don't be afraid. Now, who's this red ranger you talk about? If you tell us, I'll give you both 10 gold each. What do you say?" Said Theron, bribing them.

The two boys' eyes widened at the thought of gold.

"Uh… yeah. But you have to give it to us first!" Said one boy, the other nodded.

"What! Oh, alright." Said Theron then he groaned in annoyance. "Halduron, our coins."

Brightwing reached down and took out a handful of gold. Counted 20 gold and tossed them on the ground. The two boys picked them up with haste.

"Okay, this man, what does he look like?" asked Brightwing.

The boy with blonde wig stood up. "Well, he looks a girl but he's handsome. He doesn't have a beard. He has long red hair and he can fight 10 undead at once!" said the boy with red wig.

"He looks like a girl, is that what you said?" asked Brightwing.

"Is he gay?" Asked Theron.

The boy looked at them with an angry stare. "No, he's not gay. He has a girlfriend!"

"Yeah." Said the other boy in approval.

Halduron squinted as he looked at them. He thought the descriptions of the man according to these boys do match up with what Dar'khan Drathir described: a man with no beard, red hair and pale skin.

"Is his girlfriend an Elf?" asked Theron.

"Also, how did you know, huh?" followed Brightwing.

The boy with yellow wig held his chin as he thought about when he saw them. "Yes, I saw them holding hands one night on top of an arcane tower! his girlfriend is an elf. A beautiful elf! They look so cute together, I bet they're gonna have beautiful children and…"

"Woah, woah, woah! Okay, that's enough, kid." Said Brightwing, holding his palm up before putting it down when the boy stopped talking.

Lor'themar Theron took out a piece of parchment and started to write frantically the information they gathered.

"Where is he? Is he in the city?"

"Maybe, I don't know. He's probably in Lordaeron." Said the boy wearing red wig.

"Okay, thank you uh… what's your name, kid?"

"Timmy, sir."

"Okay, thanks for your help, Little Timmy" said Brightwing then looked at the other boy. "And… you too, whoever you are, thanks."

Aurius Rivendare, a paladin who studied under Uther just like Arthas, lost his father Baron Titus Rivendare's to the plague. During the quarantining of Stratholme, King Terenas Menethi II gave Aurius's deceased father, Baron Rivendare, all his possessions to Aurius despite the former's lack of a written will. Baron Rivendare's lands, farms, slaves, houses and large sums of gold, silver and copper were all now his son's.  
Being a former priest, now a paladin, Aurius was never a materialistic person. At a young age, he was sent to a monastery to study holy magic and become a priest. He was taught a lot of philosophy and all sorts of ethics and values about being a servant of The Light and to the people. He had been given all of his father's wealth all for himself, but because of his selfless attitude, he decided to donate all of them to the citizens, thus making his father's lands and possessions all public property.

The Paladin was inside the monastic building where Nathanos and Cicero fought Mal'ganis, The Bastion of The Silver hand praying to The Light as he does every day after he wakes up. He was thanking The Light for the blessings it showered upon the people of Stratholme, he also prayed for his father, wherever he was, that he may find peace in the afterlife. After he was done praying, he stood up, took his maul, then turned for the door.

He was greeted by two elves with bows on their back and daggers on their sheaths hanging on their belts. They donned the uniforms of The Farstriders, the elven rangers of Quel'thalas – The most fearsome and deadly archers in Azeroth who rival the Night Elves in the craft. The heraldries on their armour showed their ranks.

"Ah, good morning, elves. Welcome to The Bastion of The Silver Hand. How may I help you two?" Said Rivendare.

The two did not acknowledge the bearded man's greetings as they arrogantly paced forward like they owned the place.

"You must be Paladin Aurius Rivendare, son of Stratholme's Baron Rivendare, right?" said Lor'themar as he and Halduron walked towards the altar where the paladin was standing.

"Indeed I am." Said Rivendare.

"We are High Elven rangers from Quel'Thalas. We are here to seek information about someone who we believe was in Stratholme." Said Theron. They both walked until they reached the altar.

The morning sunshine lit the frosted glass on the ceiling, refracting the light rays while producing pretty light combinations around the altar. Rivendare's blue and gold armour reflected the lights.

"Who, and what for?"

"He is a red-haired man. He has a feminine looking face: no beard, long hair, and pale skin." said Halduron.

Rivendare put a hand on his chin then toyed on his beard. "A feminine looking man… hmmm? You mean like an androgynous man? You sure he's not a high elf?"

Rivendare noticed he had unintentionally offended the two. Halduron and Theron's long protruding elven brows furrowed and their long elven ears pointed back as a sign of annoyance. Theron's white eyes glowed likewise with Brightwing's green ones. Both elves stared at Rivendare with a dirty look upon hearing the paladin, a mere human, refer to High Elven men as resembling androgynous characteristics.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to." He said, putting his palms up momentarily. "Anyway, the only red-haired man I know of is a man named Rhonin from the Kirin Tor. I wouldn't call him feminine looking though because he has a beard … unless he shaved. Yeah, maybe he's your guy." he said.

The two elves' ears stopped pointing back and their eyes slopped glowing as they calmed down a bit.

"No, his name is Cicero." Said Lor'themar.

"Yes, and he fights like a Rogue who can cast spells and can heal." Followed Halduron.

"Hmm, only priests, mages, paladins and troll shamans can cast healing spells as far as I know of. I don't remember in my priesthood and paladin school learning about fighting stealth. Maybe you can go to Lordearon and find Uther; he has the records all the names of Paladins who studied under him. Maybe this Cicero fella is in the records."

Lor'themar was getting frustrated from the lack of information he was getting from Paladin Rivendare. His long elven ears pointed back again and his white eyes glowed in anger. He started to unload on the paladin.

"His name is Cicero, fights like a rogue-paladin mix. We believe he's trying to get inside Sylvanas Windrunner's pants and have his way with her. He fought in this sorry-arse dump of a city when that man-child of a prince of yours, Arthas, and our rangers arrived to fight the Dreadlord. Do you know where this Cicero fella is, human?" said Lor'themar.

Rivendare stared at them with a serious look.

"I do not know who this person is nor did I ever see him at one point in my life. If he's with Arthas and Sylvanas, then you might want to go to Northrend right now." He said then picked up his maul. "Also, I would ask you both to refrain from using dirty language in here: These are holy grounds. Now, will you two please leave or I'll kick you both of you out of here." Said Rivendare.

Lor'themar Theron smirked then spat on the floor before gesturing Halduron for them head for the door and take their leave.

"Yeah, there you go. Really mature, gentlemen. Really mature!" Rivendare shouted. "No wonder the Windrunner sisters fell for human men - you people are just arrogant bimbos." Said Rivendare in annoyance. "Leave! Get out of my city or I'll haul both of you to the dungeons myself!"

.

.

.

The ship had been sailing for almost two weeks. Everyone on board who donned Lordaeron's badges were in a gloomy mood ever since departing Northrend due to the absence of Arthas. They all felt like they have failed the mission because the prince did not come with them. Many of them also worried about what was in store for them when they come home: what would General Garithos do to them if he blames them for the failure to get the prince home? what would Uther say to them? How would King Terenas react if he is given the news that his son did not come with them?

To encourage the men to let out their emotions, at least on paper, Cicero took 2 of his blank notebooks he bought in Stratholme and dismantled them so he can give each one on board 5 pages of paper for them to write on and express themselves or make paper animals for fun. He did however keep the already written one for himself so he can write logs, poetry, and songs and not feel boredom. He also made sure that the things he wrote were all nicely written because often times, Sylvanas would read them and she would put comments and drawings in red ink.  
Sylvanas and Cicero tried their hardest to not make love in the ship or show any signs of affection in front of anyone since they knew what repercussions await the Windrunner name if their relationship was relayed to the Sunstriders and if Cicero's true identity surfaces. They do however express themselves through their writings on their shared journal that Cicero keeps. And on rare occasions, at the middle of the night when everyone is asleep, Cicero and Sylvanas would converse on the deck exchanging stories.

When they had conversations, Sylvanas would enlighten him with stories about the 1st and 2nd war, her sisters and their adventures, her experiences and funny moments with Nathanos and Lor'themar Theron; Cicero would tell her about the Daedra, the Aedra, his adventures in Skyrim about lifting a hundred pounds of cheese wheels and junk while fighting dragons, draugrs, and other Skyrim mega-fauna with The Listener. This was the full extent of their hear-to-heart intercourse in the ship for days, but for her and for him that was okay.

It was now morning and the sun was starting to rise in the east. Sylvanas Windrunner and Cicero spent the whole night chatting on the deck. They were in the mess hall cooking breakfast for the men. Cicero was hammering on some dried fish with a mallet to soften them while Sylvanas was lighting up the stove with a cauldron placed on top.

"Oh, what's this. A ranger General cooking for mere soldiers?" said Cicero jokingly while he was hammering on some dried stockfish.

"Oh, shut up." She said with a smile then pinched him on his cheek. "You're lucky you're not fully registered as a Farstrider Ranger, otherwise, I would treat you like I do to them. Treat them like hell." She said then winked at him. She picked up a pail of water then poured it in the cauldron.

"Yeah, Nathanos and your Rangers would confirm that."

He noticed Sylvanas's long elven ears pointed back, which he knew was a sign of either annoyance or sadness.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to." He said, knowing the fact that Nathanos and all of her rangers were killed in action.

Her long elven ears stopped pointing back. "Please, you don't want High Elf tears on your soup. Trust me." She said.

"I think the stockfish are soft enough." he said after he was done beating the last of the 10 stockfish after he noticed there were meat fibers protruding.

"Alright, go in the pantry and slice some vegetables but don't take too long. These fish will only boil for an hour."

"Yes, ma'am." He said then went below.

She was now left to herself while Cicero was a floor down below in the pantry. She put the stockfish on boiling water then covered the cauldron with a lid. The elf let out a sigh then sat down on a stool, staring at the cauldron as she thought about her relationship with Cicero and compared herself to her sisters.

Her sister Varessa is in a relationship with a Kirin Tor mage and Alleria who is in Draenor at the moment is married to a Silver Hand paladin. She on the other hand is in a forbidden relationship with an alien from another dimension who is of no redeeming status here in Azeroth nor did he in his past life. But she does love him, and she does with all her heart despite of his criminal past. Besides, he's changed after all.  
She then thought of her sisters and what happened to them when the Suntriders knew they were in relationships with humans: their decision to be in relationships with humans didn't go well with the High Elven people at all, yet her sisters still served Quel'thalas and the Highborn folk but they distanced themselves from the High Elves. _Should I do the same? _She said to herself. She knew that Silvermoon considers her as an important asset, same with her sisters Vereesa and Alleria but both are currently distant towards the Sunstriders who rule Quel'Thalas despite being obligated to serve under the ruling family. For the high elven people, her sisters marrying humans were only tolerated because the humans they married were of noble status, but still, they were frowned upon by the elves.

Sylvanas's thoughts were interrupted when she heard hissing on the stove. She quickly rushed to open the lid to relieve the pressure build-up from the frothing of the liquid inside.

"Is everything okay up there?" shouted Cicero from downstairs.

"Yes, love. Don't worry about it."

.

.

Later at Dusk in Lordearon. While in the throne room waiting for dinner, King Terenas Menethil II and his Daughter Princess Calia were arguing about sending the extraction operation at Northrend. The court was dismissed so the two will have a private conversation. King Terenas thought he was definitive on giving Arthas 1 month before he sends an extraction team but Princess Calia argued he should send them next week.

"Father, even the Kul Tirans are willing to help. Just say the word to Daelin." Calia said.

"Do they, really?" said the King sitting on the throne, his brows askew.

"King Daelin can't bear seeing his daughter depressed so he agreed to Jaina's pleas."

"What do the Proudmoores have anything to do with all this?"

"I mean, Jaina and Arthas got back together. You know that, right? That's why Jaina came here to talk to you about him in the first place. She's the consort to your heir and she want our future king to live." Calia who was standing beside the throne walked in front of him. "Isn't that what you wanted, father? Arthas to be king so you can abdicate and finally retire from Kingship?" she said, her arms extended.

King Terenas looked down for a moment and touched the crown on his head. The weight of the crown, figuratively speaking, felt heavy to him. He then looked up to meet his daughter's eyes.

"That's what I want, but he's still not ready, Calia."

"You may be right, but him being ready or not will be irrelevant if he doesn't come back from Northrend."

The King waved a hand dismissively. "He's going to be fine: I've given him the Alliance's finest men and technology, he-"

"Father, please!" she shouted, looking at him with a begging look.

"No! This campaign is far too important to stop so soon. This campaign isn't just about retribution, but it's for the future of Azeroth. The threat of the undead needs to be quelled and I'm going all in on it." The king looked down and started to breathe heavy. After pacing for a bit, he looked up to meet his daughter's eyes. "Even… even at the cost of my own son's life."

Princess Calia's eyes reddened as she suppressed tears from coming out. She then quickly stormed out from the throne room.

The king was alone sitting on the throne. After a few minutes, a guard came. The guard approached the throne and knelt before relaying a message.

"King Terenas, your grace. Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider of Silvermoon and some members of the Silver Circle of Quel'thalas have arrived."

The aged king waved a hand. "Let them in."

"Yes, your majesty." Said the guard then stood up and walked out.

The king waited for the elves to arrive. While doing so, he was contemplating about what Calia and he argued about. A minute went by and the wooden gate bridge that was located far opposite to the throne room opened. King Terenas looked towards the open arch and saw 3 elves walk the bridge. Their long elven ears, long protruding brows and glowing eyes were noticeable even from dozens of meters away.  
Terenas watched them walk towards the throne room. The sounds of boots getting louder as they got closer. Grand Magister Belo'vir, Dar'khan Drathir and Kael'thas Sunstrider approached.

"Ah, Terenas." Said Dar'khan Drathir, not even bothering to properly address the king.

Kael'thas elbowed Drathir on his side. "Shut your mouth, you oaf. Let me handle this."

The 3 elves reached the ornate center of the throne room then Kael'thas who was at the center spoke.

"My apologies, King Terenas. Master Drathir had been out of the weather as of late." He bowed. The king accepted Kael'thas's apology and gestured him to stand then looked at Drathir with a darting look of contempt. Drathir averted the king's eyes in shame.

"And what is it that you need of me, Prince Kael'thas?"

"My king, Quel'thalas is in need of aid, my Father is…" he hesitated momentarily. "Out of his wits as of late and insisted on letting the magisters handle this on our own, we-"

"Slow down." He raised a palm. "What is this all about? Come on, you can tell me."

Kael'thas sighed hard before he looked at Drathir and Belo'vir gesturing them to explain everything they knew about the scroll they found. The three elves told the king just that and Kael'thas also mentioned what Brightwing and Theron discovered about Cicero and his possible connection to the scroll itself together with Cicero's conviction.

King Terenas put his palm on his face after listening intently to the three. He paused for a full minute before speaking.

"I cannot make decisions right away, gentlemen. I must discuss this with King Varian and Antonidas. For the meantime, I'll be summoning Vereesa Windrunner and postpone her ongoing campaign."

"What for, sire?" asked Kael.

"You can appoint her to take your place as acting Ranger General while you and the circle can study the object. You'll just have to worry about the scroll and not the city's security. As for this Cicero fella, I'll have to talk to Uther about his involvement in the campaign."

"Oh, that would be swell, sir. Thank you. Now… I think we best get going. Your grace may be expected at the dinner, yes?"

Terenas forced a smirk. "That would be best. Glad to be of help, gentlemen."

.

.

.

**2 days later**

Uther the Lightbringer was in Andorhal overseeing the dispelling of the farmlands. He also would help the mages when they encountered zombies by killing said abominations. The mages did a very good job with the dispelling: dozens of grain silos were disinfected, making the grains inside edible, and the plagued soils were dispelled and fertile again, ready to till.

As he was watching the mages dispel a plagued barn, he heard the loud guttural roar of ghouls within.

"Get out of there!" shouted the Paladin then ran towards the infected barn.

The mages quickly sprinted to a safe distance and readied their fire spells.

When Uther opened the barn door, 10 ghouls charged at him. Uther brought up his holy shield and surrounded himself with a protective bubble. He then proceeded to easily kill the ghouls with his maul, smashing them into unrecognizable piles of mushed flesh and bone. After he was done, he went out.

"The coast is clear." He said as he walked out.

"Lord Uther, behind you!" said one of the mages.

Uther quickly turned and he saw the large hook from a large Abomination break through the wall of the wooden barn. The smell coming from the creature was intense.

When the head of the Abomination popped out, it was suddenly hit by an arrow. The abomination immediately died. Uther and the mages looked around to see who shot it. When they looked to the road to the far left, they saw 2 figures: one was a red haired human and one was an elf.

"Wait… could it be?" muttered Uther as his eyes widened.

"Uther! It's us!" shouted the man.

Uther looked at the two, the elf standing beside the red-haired man. "Sir Rhonin? Vereesa Windrunner?"

It was almost dusk. Uther the Lightbringer invited Rhonin the Redhair and Vereesa Windrunner inside a farmhouse that was currently being used for mage garrison. The inside of the house was neat, tidy and nicely kept due to the fact that it was occupied by women. In fact, all of the mages who were stationed in the dispelling of Andorhal were all female humans and high elves.

Uther, Rhonin and Vereesa were sitting on a round table sipping on some alcohol - flask of Stormwind

"So, I've been recalled from duty by the king. What's this all about? The messenger never told me."

"Silvermoon is in need of you. Prince Kael'thas and the Silver Circle are currently preoccupied with pressing matters, I have no knowledge of what those are and King Terenas insisted Lordearon not to be directly involved, unless The Circle asks for help. Anyway… do you have any idea where your sister Sylvanas is?"

Vereesa gasped. "She's in Silvermoon with her rangers, right?"

He momentarily puffed his cheeks and hesitated. "She went to Northrend with Arthas."

"Northrend? B-by The Light…Oh my! Does that mean my sister is gonna marry the heir to the throne of Lordaeron? Aww."

Uther was surprised with her reaction. "Uhm… I don't know about that, but I didn't intend this to be good news, Lady Windrunner." He looked at her seriously. "Look, you see, last month when you and Rhonin were in your respective campaigns, a plague swept through Lordaeron…" Uther then told a very long story about the entire crisis, from the news in Strhanbrad to the battles Arthas fought in Kings Road, Brill, Heatglen, Andorhal and Stratholme. He also told them Sylvanas and Arthas's pursuit to seek revenge against Mal'ganis.

Rhonin got angered at the thought of Kel'Thuzad masterminding the distribution of the plague and he suddenly hammered his fists on the table. "That traitor! I knew Kel'thuzad was up to no good, he should have been kicked out from the Kirin Tor long ago."

"Calm down, sweetie." Vereesa held him in the arm, trying to calm him down.

"I must go back to Dalaran. Meet with the Kirin Tor about all this." Rhonin said.

"He's dead now, he won't be a problem, Rhonin. His ashes are scattered around a compost pit… Oh." He noticed how affectionate Vereesa was stroking the man. "You two are together?" asked Uther.

The two replied by looking at him with smirks on their faces.

Uther smiled. "Well, love is in the air even through these hard times. Am I right?"

"That indeed." Said the elf. She then pecked Rhonin on his left cheek.

"Ah, it warms my heart to see the pretty little things amidst all the chaos." He reclined on his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. "Jaina and Arthas, you and Rhonin, and if the rumors in Stratholme are true…" He smiled. "I think Sylvanas must've found someone as well."

Vereesa gasped in excitement and let out a high-pitched squeal of glee. "Aww! My sister? Finally."

"He's a redhead as well." He looked at Rhonin.

"Really? Well… maybe someday I'll have some ale with the guy."

While they were enjoying themselves with their alcohol and talks of their future, there was a sudden frantic knocking on the door behind them.

"Lord Uther, Lord Uther!" A man's voice was heard.

The three stood up and Uther opened the door. They saw a panting knight donning the insignia of Stratholme on his tabard.

"Take a moment to breathe, soldier. Come, sit down." said Uther. Rhonin took a chair and led the tired knight to it.

"Are you hurt?" asked the elf.

"I'm fine, ma'am." He looked at Uther. "Sir, Baron Aurius Rivendare ordered me to send you a message." The knight handed him a sealed parchment. "It's about a ship coast guards of Quel'thalas have spotted to the far North. It's heading towards Stratholme."

Uther broke the seal and read through. He studied the letter with furrowing brows before turning to Vereesa and Rhonin.

"It's them. Your sister is coming home, Vereesa."

"Oh my! By the Sunwell! Yeeeee!" she said excitedly then went to hug her husband.

"It says in the letter that they might be expected to arrive to shore early morning." Said Uther, putting the letter in his pocket.

"Then we must go to Statholme now." Said Vereesa.

Uther nodded.

The knight on the chair spoke. "Sire, may I suggest also bringing some health potions and food for them?" he said. "We don't know what kind of hell they've been through."

Uther's brows raised. "Good idea."

Vereesa and Rhonin noticed Uther was frowning.

"Uther, what's wrong?" Asked the elf.

Uther sighed. "Only one ship made it back." He shook his head.

"Oh… H-how many did Arthas bring?" the elf asked.

"Seven."

.

.

.

**To be continued. Next Chapter will be uploaded tomorrow.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: The Elder Scroll.  
(May contain structural errors and will be edited.)**

**Previous Chapter's story has been altered, read that before proceeding.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Cicero and Sylvanas were sitting on a bench adjacent to the back of the ship's bridge. Everyone except them and the ship captain were asleep.

Cicero casted clairvoyance. "We're close. You're all going home."

She turned to look at him, by now she knew how to sense melancholy in his tone of voice. "_We're_ going home, Cicero. This is your new home, remember?"

"Oh, how I wish it would feel like it."

Sylvanas took a deep breath and exhaled. "Cicero, I've been thinking these past few weeks – I… I want you to come with me to Quel'thalas."

Cicero was shocked at what she proposed. "But what about your namesake? Your sisters, your whole family's legacy… Don't let it all go to ruin because of me."

She took his hand. "My sisters did the same by marrying humans."

"Yes, but the difference is, those men were noblemen and not marauding goons like me – "

She put her index finger on his lip. "You were, but are you still? No. Remember what I told you in Heartglen?"

He forced a smile in reply.

"Look, my gut tells me everyone already knows about us. Uther already suspected it when you first met him." She gripped his hand firmly. "We never did a good job hiding it." She sighed. "That's what happens if your feelings get the better of you… and I I'm glad it did."

"How could you even consider that, Sylvanas? You know what would happen if you and I – "

"I am the Ranger General of Silvermoon in great standing. I won't let the Sunstriders dictate who I should be seeing. My sisters never gave a hoot about them and went about with whatever they wanted and I'm going to do the same."

"Wouldn't that soil your family's legacy?"

"The Windrunner name will never be soiled despite what the elves of Quel'thalas think because just like my mother and my sisters, we have always served and protected them, whether they like it or not."

Cicero covered his face with his hands and doubled down. Sylvanas started to caress his back.

"Sweetie, It's okay. It's all going to be alright."

"I don't know what to think or say."

"Come with me to Quel'thalas, Cicero. I will appoint you to take Nathanos's place as Ranger Lord. We can hunt trolls and orcs together. We can go on adventures together just like you and The Dragonborn did in Skyrim except you won't be carrying massive cheese wheels."

He was silent for a moment then he straightened up and turn to meet her gaze. He put a hand on her face, feeling her soft warm skin. "Soon, my love… After I stop Arthas."

"Please, don't go back to Northrend." She said beggingly and flung herself to embrace him.

"I need to, Sylvanas." he said while stroking her long blonde hair. "Too many lives have been lost and a lot more will be if nothing is done: Frostmourne must be destroyed."

"I'll come with you, then." She said.

"Please don't, I think you need to stay in Quel'Thalas and defend it… just in case I fail. Medivh's prophecy tells of massive destruction of Lordaeron and your homeland."

"You're tugging on my heartstrings." She pouted. "We should not be thinking about that stuff now, but we should be celebrating the fact that we're finally coming home."

He smiled wryly. "If there's something The Imperial Legion taught me is that we must always think a step ahead." He gently pulled away and stood up. He looked behind the ship's bridge and can see the dark figure of dry land in the horizon. "We're getting close."

She stood up and went to join him looking silently at the horizon as the ship approaches the port of Startholme.

.

.

Aurius Rivendare, Uther, Vereesa and her husband Rhonin were waiting with torches in hand on a jetty on the docking ports. The scones and lanterns on the port were lit, mages from the cleanup party were also present to provide healing to the soldiers once they get out.

"There they are! I can see the ship!" said Vereesa.

Uther gestured some boatmen with lamps to go and escort the ship. When the ship got closer, the light from the lanterns of the escorting boats lit the hull of the vessel, they could make out a large dent on it.

"By The Light! I hope everybody's okay." Said Vereesa.

Rhonin nudged her and pointed at the ship. "Vereesa, look."

She saw figures of people hurrying to crowd up on the railings of the ship. Immediately, she could make out a shadowy figure of a person win long ears. All of a sudden, there was a small ball of light that appeared hovering over the figure's head, and what she saw was none other than her sister.

"Sylvanas! Lady Moon!" Vereesa cried out waving her arms. "It's me, Vereesa!"

Sylvanas was on the deck when she noticed her sister, her heart leapt in joy at the sight of her. She turned and saw Cicero standing idly and approached him. "Hold this for me, would you?" she handed him her bow and quiver before suddenly going overboard. "I'll see you on the docks!"

"What are you – " He ran towards the railings and saw her disappear in the water.

Cicero wanted to jump down too but he was relieved when he saw her resurface, she was swimming towards the jetty. Standing on the jetty were 4 people, among them he saw what looked to be an elf and 3 men. He guessed the elf was one of her sisters since there was no other way she could've been excited to jump overboard. He smiled, feeling happy for her.

.

.

Vereesa pulled Sylvanas up the wooden jetty and they immediately embraced each other passionately. Tears flowing on both of their eyes as they hugged.

"I've missed you so much, Little Moon." Sylvanas said.

"Oh, I missed you more. You got me so worried when Uther told me you went to Northrend."

"It's alright… I'm okay, Vereesa."

Rhonin, Uther, and Aurius watched the two hug it out while waiting for the ship to anchor at the dock.

"Lady Moon, what happened to your armour?" Vereesa asked commenting on her wearing plain clothes.

"Well, we needed to lighten the load for the ship as best as we can. All of us did. It was a huge risk to rid of most of our weapons, fortunately we didn't come across sea monsters on the way… thank The Light."

"Where's Arthas? Is he on the ship?" Uther asked anxiously.

Sylvanas's ears turned back and slowly met his eyes. "Sir Uther…I…"

"Oh, no." Uther said, knowing from the elf's expression that it was bad news. His eyes wide and his hands shaking.

"Sir, he's still alive, it's just that… he… he didn't come with us."

"Why?"

"Captain Falric was with him when he issued the order to depart."  
One of the mages from the dispelling team approached her and handed a fleece. "Oh, thank you." Vereesa helped her sister with the fleece to cover herself up.

Uther continued. "Without him?"

"Yes, sir. Maybe you might want to talk to Cicero and Captain Falric about it, they know more than I do." she said.

Uther nodded. "Go get yourself warm now, Sylvanas." He pointed to a warehouse behind them. "There's some warm clothes and food in the warehouses the mages set up. Thank you for the news."

Sylvanas forced a smile and let herself get led to the warehouse by her sister.

The ship finally approached the dock. The soldiers inside crowded themselves on the deck and took their time to get offboard. They were all lead to the warehouses to receive dry clothing, food, and medical attention.

Cicero and Muradin sat on wooden crates nursing cups of coffee.

"Oh, Arthas, poor boy. I never should've led him to it." Muradin shook his head.

"T'was the sword, yes?" Cicero took a draught. "That thing is controlling him. But I believe Arthas is still strong enough to resist."

"Aye. But mind you, son. The human spirit can only take so much." Said the dwarf before taking a sip. Muradin changed the subject. "I've heard you lost your sword when you scuffled with Arthas, aye lad?"

"Yes, sir. But it wasn't a sword; it was dagger." He said and took another draught.

Muradin nodded. "We will be heading home to Ironforge shortly when my men get their fill. Say, how about we fashion you another blade, would you like that?"

"Thank you, sir. I would like that."

The dwarf finished his cup of coffee. "Very well, what would it be, a dagger?"

Cicero smiled. "Maybe I'll go for a…Longsword this time."

Muradin's brows raised. "A longsword? What's that? I've honestly never heard or seen one. Is that a sword the footmen use but longer?"

"No, sir. Let me draw you one." He took out his journal and tore a page off. He reached for his knapsack and fished out a rod of charcoal and started to draw an Oeakeshott-type longsword with a narrow-tapered tip and a spiked crossguard similar to the ones the Imperial Guards use in the White-Gold tower.

"By The Light." Muradin chuckled at his drawing. "I would argue for you to use something much bigger, lad. But, well… you're a strong capable warrior and a warrior knows what weapon is best for them, yes?"

"I'm flattered, sir."

Muradin took his drawing. "Well, this is going to be quite the challenge for me and my brother Brann to craft." He chuckled. "We'll have it ready in a week, lad."

"Thank you, sir."

The sound of boots was heard becoming louder with each step. The two looked and saw Uther alongside a blonde bearded man with silver armour.

"Greetings, Cicero. Greetings, Muradin." Said Uther.

Cicero clicked his heel and did a Legionnaire salute that surprised the paladin.

"Uh, nice to see you again, Cicero." Uther said.

"Uther, nice to see you again." Muradin said and went over to hug him.

"How are you, Muradin? I'm so glad you guys made it."

"Arthas, he's – "

"I know. Sylvanas told me lately. Do you mind if I talk to both of you in private?"

"No, not at all."

He nodded to the dwarf and turned to the redhead. "Follow me."

.

.

Uther led them to another warehouse. Inside, Cicero saw Sylvanas siting beside a circular table with an elf and a red-haired human. There was another table where Captain Falric and a familiar looking woman sat; that woman was Jaina Proudmoore. He noticed she had reddened eyes and she had a handkerchief in hand, he guessed she must've wept after hearing the news about Arthas.

"Everybody is here. Take a seat, you two."

Cicero nodded and went over to where Sylvanas and her sister sat to return her bow. He then went to sit beside Falric and Jaina.

Cicero faced her. "Jaina, I did what I can. I'm sorry."

"It's okay it's not your fault." She said then wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. "Captain told me you said there's still hope of saving him, yes?"

He put a hand to hers, holding it firmly. "Yes, there is. I know there is."

Uther spoke. "Now that everyone is here. Captain Falric, Mister Cicero, Sylvanas Windrunner, and Muradin Bronzebeard. Baron Aurius Rivendare wishes to apologize for the lack of a hero's welcome or a parade to celebrate your return, but considering the events that transpired it's safe to say none of you would even care for one."

Uther sat down on a crate. "Any of you, can you please tell me what exactly happened in the Northrend expedition. Don't worry, the building is shielded with a noise barrier cast by Jaina, no one can hear us outside."

Cicero, Sylvanas, Falric, and Muradin told Uther everything from the departure to Northrend, to Cicero and Arthas's fight on top of Mal ganis's necropolis. Sylvanas however never mentioned what Medivh told her.

Rhonin, Vereesa, and Jaina were shocked and awed at what they just heard.

"By The Light. I do not know how King Terenas would react to this." He sighed hard. "If that sword has any direct effect on Arthas's physiology as evidenced by the whitening of his hair and the change of tint in his eyes, then we could only imagine what he would look like now that it's been a month already… damn."

"Then I must destroy the sword, sir. I need to go back to Northrend." Said Cicero.

"You've done enough, my friend." Uther said. "But even if I would let you, without King Terenas's permission you're not going there."

He protested. "Sir, the sword's control on Arthas grows stronger every day, and according to Medivh – "

He held up a hand. "Respect the laws of our land, sonny. Arthas may be your friend, but you should've known by now that he is the heir to the throne of Lordaeron. His father, King Terenas will make the final decision on what has to be done, alright? I meant no disrespect, but you should know your place. This matter falls into the hands of the leaders of the Alliance."

Cicero pursed his lips and nodded in silence.

Jaina jumped in. "Uther, can he and I just talk to King Terenas about it? If he's worried about resources, then Lordaeron can have the Kul Tiran navy."

"You can try to convince him, Jaina. I understand both of your concerns but The King decides what has to be done at the end of the day."

Jaina nodded.

"Cicero, one more thing." He looked at Cicero. "You're needed in Silvermoon."

Cicero's eyes widened. "Why? What do they want with me?" he said with his arms spread. Sylvanas gasped and was looking at him worryingly, fearing the worst.

"Kael'thas Sunstrider requested that you see him in person. Sylvanas should accompany you."

"I have a bad feeling about this. What if they do something to him?" Sylvanas asked.

"I'm not sure what their intents are, King Terenas never said them to me. I'm sure he'll be fine, but if something happens, The Order of the Silver Hand will come to his aid."

Jaina put a hand on his shoulder. "Please tell me you haven't assassinated anyone is Quel'thalas, have you?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then don't worry, you'll be fine."

.

.

.

The meeting ended at sunrise. Jaina and Uther were on their way to Capital City along with Arthas's soldiers; Muradin and his dwarves went home; Rhonin teleported to Dalaran; and Cicero and the Windrunners got in a portal to Quel'thalas.

The three of them were walking in the troll-infested woodlands of Eversong on their way to the main outermost Elfgate of Quel'thalas. As they walked, Cicero was silent since the end of the meeting.

"So, he's the lucky guy. Isn't he, Lady Moon?" Vereesa asked her sister.

"Yes, Vereesa, but I worry what repercussions in store for us when we enter the city."

"Sister, why? Why should you care about what those nonce from The Circle think? Fuck them." Vereesa looked at Cicero. "_Sinu a'manore,_ Cicero. Well met. Tell me, where are you from?"

Cicero swallowed hard. "Uh, Stormwind, ma'am."

"Oh, so what do you do there?"

"I… uh… I'm a farmer and I uh… I bake bread."

"Cool."

Sylvanas put her palm on her face and giggled at his goofiness. "Drop the act, sweetroll. It's okay, you can tell her - she's my sister."

Cicero sighed. "No, ma'am. I'm not from Stormwind and I've never been there to begin with. I'm from Tamriel, I received my arcane and combat training as a Nightblade in our Legion. Nightblades are similar to your sister's rangers except that we use a lot of magic. I can tell you more, ma'am but my mind is preoccupied with some things. Sylvanas can tell you the rest."

Vereesa smirked and nodded. "I understand."

Sylanas told her everything she knew about him to her sister but she never told her about Cicero's Dark Brotherhood history. When they reached the Elfgate, they noticed there were elven guards and spellbreakers on standby.

"What's with all the guards?" Vereesa asked.

"I think we're expected here, and why would they be needing spellbrakers? unless…" She paused, gasped and turned to Cicero. "Stick close to me, and if anything happens, whatever you do don't attack."

Sylvanas suddenly heard a familiar voice. "Halt! By the order of the King."

The three of them turned around to see 3 elves suddenly appear out of a portal, 2 of them were robed and the other wore Farstrider armour. Sylvanas and Vereesa recognized all three of them. Cicero however could only recognize one, the elf who tended to him in the healing chambers.

"Kael'thas. What's the meaning of this? What's with all the guards?" Sylvanas said.

Kael'thas smirked while he looked at her. "Please don't panic, they're not for you." He looked at Cicero and nodded at him. "So, you're the Red Ranger of Stratholme everyone's talking about, hmm? Will you please kindly come with us, there's something we'd like to discuss about in private."

Cicero didn't say anything and stepped forward but Sylvanas grabbed a hold of his hand. Sylvanas hissed at Kael'Thas, showing her sharp canines. "Why? No, I'm not handing him over unless I'm guaranteed you won't do anything to him." She looked at the ranger next to the mage. "Lort'themar, are you in this too?"

Theron frowned. "I'm sorry, Ranger General. It's his majesty's orders."

Dar'Khan Drathir smiled wryly at her. "Please, Lady Windrunner. Hand over mister Cicero or you will be charged of treason."

"Treason?" Vereesa shouted. "So, this is the type of welcome my sister gets after everything she's been through these past few months?"

Drathir chuckled. "Why should I listen to what you have to say, Vereesa? You don't even serve Quel'Thalas."

Sylvanas and Vereesa then started to argue with Drathir in Thalassian.

"Enough!" Kael'Thas shouted. He gestured the guards and spell brakers to surround them and gave the nod for Lor'Themar Theron to draw his bow. "Vereesa and Sylvanas, please. The Circle is currently in a crisis right now and we need both of you of come to Silvermoon to oversee the security. Lor'Themar will be briefing both of you about everything you need to know."

Drathir extended a hand. "Cicero, please. Come quietly and no one gets hurt."

Cicero marched forward but Sylvanas grabbed him again. He turned to her. "It's okay. I'll be fine." He said and gently broke free. He approached the elves. "Here I am, sirs. Now let the Windrunner sisters go."

Kael'Thas gestured the guards to sheathe their weapons and waved 5 Spellbrakers over to come and shackle him.

"Come on, Kael. Is that really necessary?" Vereesa said.

Kael'Thas ignored her. He approached the redhead as he was being bound. "Forgive us, my good man." He turned to Sylvanas who was darting him with an angry stare. "We just need to make sure he isn't a threat to us. You can now enter the gate, there's a portal to Silvermoon inside that Drathir conjured up."

"Where are you taking him?" Sylvanas asked.

"I will be explaining everything soon, Ma'am." Said Lor'Themar.

.

.

.

Cicero was led to a dense forest in Eversong accompanied by Kael'Thas, Drathir, and some Spellbrakers and elven guards. He spoke very little whenever the prince tried to engage in a conversation with him.

"You know, you're making things a lot harder for yourself if you don't talk."

"I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be in Lordaeron to see the king."

"No, you're staying here until we sort out this mess, alright?" Said the prince. "Arthas can die in Northrend for all I care, in fact, I hope he does."

"You have no idea what dangers await – ".

"Don't know, don't care. The _Ban'dinoriel_ can never be breached no matter how hard you try. With regards to Prince Blondie - that's Lordaeron's problem, not ours." He smacked his lips. "This however…" they stopped. "…is Quel'Thalas's problem and I believe you have something to do with it."

Cicero's brows furrowed. "Me? Was it about the creatures I killed?" he said recalling the trolls and ogres he slew in the forests months prior. "Or was it that…" he thought about his relationship with Sylvanas.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, then. Follow me."

They went to an open area where a dome of 3 story in height was surrounded by robed elves. Tents were erected all around, the smell of boiling herbs and reagents filled the air. Cicero saw some elves arguing in their native language. He could recognize some of the words since he learned some basic Thalassian himself from Sylvanas and he guessed they were not saying nice things to each other.

"Shut up!" Drathir shouted at the clamoring elves.

"Does this place look familiar to you?" Kael'Thas said to Cicero, spreading his arms.

"No, sir. I swear." He shook his head.

"Really? Let's head on inside, then."

They went inside the dome and immediately Cicero's heart leapt at what he saw. There was a foxhole in the center surrounded by wooden scaffolding possibly for the elves to stand on while they studied the object.  
Cicero's eyes widened. The object in the foxhole was something he recognized from his youth in the Imperial Library. He also saw three of them that The Dragonborn gave to Dexion Evicus in Fort Dawnguard. The object inside the crater was an Elder Scroll.

"By the Gods!... how? How in Oblivion did you get this?" he asked with anxiety in his voice.

"Don't play stupid with me, redhead. You know you brought that thing in here." Drathir said.

Cicero looked at him. His eyes still wide and his mouth ajar from astonishment. "No." he shook his head. "No, I don't remember anything about this."

"You're lying." Drathir asserted.

Cicero shouted. "Do you have any idea what this thing is?"

"Cut it out, both of you!" The prince shouted. He pointed a finger at the redhead, "You're angry – that means you're probably telling the truth. You, what do you know about this so called 'Elder Scroll'?"

Drathir chuckled. "Maybe it was a scroll written by elders?"

Kael'Thas grew tired of Dar'Khan and decided to slap him in the face. "Shut up!" he turned to Cicero "And you! Start talking!"

"I need to take a closer look at it. But first, take these shackles off me."

"_Kim'jael_!" he cursed and paused for a moment. "Alright, but if you so much as lay a hand on anyone here, I'll fry you." He waved the Spellbreakers to unshackle him.

After his bounds were undone, he slowly approached and walked down the crater towards the scroll. He knelt down and studied it. "According to what my teachers told me, an Elder Scroll is an object that contains past and future events in my homeland of Tamriel. Some scrolls even contain powerful spells, objects, and even supernatural beings trapped inside." He leaned close and wiped off some dirt on its surface. The elves began taking notes as they all listened and watched intently.

He continued. "How this scroll managed to get in here is very strange. It just doesn't make any sense, an Elder Scroll… in Azeroth?"

"Could your presence possibly constitute to it being here?" Kael'Thas asked. "Either way, none of us were able to lift the thing, be it through physical or magical means."

Cicero turned and stood. "Not even you, sir?"

Kael'Thas shook his head. "Hmm, hmm. Try and lift it if you can."

He turned his attention back to the scroll. He knelt and touched it. The elves were watching anxiously wondering if he could lift the object.

Cicero grabbed a hold of it and raised the scroll. The elves were in awe and they all couldn't believe their eyes. He studied the scroll in detail from the gems to the knurls until something written around the ends of the scroll made him shudder and gasp. – there were Daedric letterings on it.

"What's wrong?" asked the prince.

"This scroll must be disposed of." Cicero said.

"Why?" Kael said. "You said it contains power, what kind?"

"I don't know and I think neither should you. What I know from the letterings is that it's probably a form of forbidden history, power, or object contained within for all I know. Don't get any ideas, sir."

"Hand it over." Kael'Thas extended his palm.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Destroy it."

"You cannot destroy an Elder Scroll no matter how hard you try, sir. I suggest leaving it in here or putting it somewhere with tight security… wait, didn't you just say you tried lifting this but can't?"

Drathir whispered something to Kael'thas. The prince and magister Drathir started to talk in Thalassian all the while giving glances at Cicero. As they continued to converse, he noticed the two were getting in a heated argument resulting in Kael'thas shoving Drathir off balance. The Magister got up, spat on the ground and stormed his way out.

"Pardon me for that. Where were we? Oh, I need you to take the scroll to Silvermoon Palace."

"No, I don't trust any of you. I'm taking this to Lordaeron, see if Uther's Silver Hand paladins can find a way to safely dispose of it." He said and picked up the scroll.

"That is a property of The Kingdom of Quel'Thalas! Now, I order you to take that scroll with us to Silvermoon Palace!" Kael'Thas shouted, bright green orbs appeared orbiting around his chest. He readied spells on both hands. The Spellbreakers unsheathed their swords and surrounded him.

"No, sir." He said and casted Stoneflesh on himself.

"Kill him!"

The spellbreakers closed in on him. Cicero casted paralysis on one of them but his shield extinguished the spell. Cicero gripped the scroll firmly and began to flail it on the elves, he was able to bludgeon 2 of them but he was ultimately overwhelmed. A spellbreaker snuck behind him and thrusted his sword through his back.

Cicero felt agonizing pain and he grunted loudly. He looked down and could see the point of the blade come out of his chest. The Spellbraker withdrew the sword and Cicero collapsed on the ground, bleeding. Despite being mortally wounded, he was able to cast healing on himself. Kael'Thas saw his wounds close.

"What? He shouldn't be able to heal himself. His mana should have been destroyed." He faced the Spellbreaker who stabbed him.

"Your Majesty, he doesn't even have mana, I never absorbed any. Should I cut his head off, sir?"

Kael'Thas raised his palm. "No, take him to Silvermoon, make sure Sylvanas never sees you guys dragging him in." Kael'thas stomped Cicero on the back of his head before he could completely heal himself. "Now, go. Make sure to shackle him before he wakes up. You don't want to end up like them." he pointed at the 2 Spellbreakers Cicero bludgeoned to death, their helmets caved in and dented deeply and their faces disfigured beyond recognition.

"What about the scroll, sir?"

"It stays here for the time being until we figure out how to move it."

The guards and Spellbreakers left and took Cicero with them. Kael'Thas bent down and tried to lift the scroll but again, just like the last time, the scroll refused to move. "Damn it!" he cursed.

"You okay, your grace?" one of the female elves inside asked.

"No." Kael'thas looked up and recognized who the elf was. "Liadrin. Nice to meet you, priestess."

"I'm worried about Dar'Khan, your grace. I think he may be up to no good." She said.

"Me too. He suggested to me that we use the Sunwell to harness The Scroll's power."

"By The Light, I've been in countless campaigns with him along with Ranger Theron. I know how egotistical that elf is. You know, when that Cicero fella mentioned that the scroll had forbidden power contained inside… I saw Drathir smile deviously. After he stormed out in rage a while ago, I saw him talking to Galell insisting that he follow him. I couldn't make out what they were saying through all the hubbub since you were apprehending the man."

Kael'Thas stared at the scroll. "Priestess, I'll appoint you as warden for this Cicero man's imprisonment. Make sure Sylvanas and Dar'Khan Drathir never get near his cell. Besides, you're the last person they would ask if they're looking for him anyway."

She nodded.

.

.

**Capital City, Lordaeron.**

Uther the Lightbringer, Jaina Proudmoore, and Captain Falric entered the throne room. The three knelt before King Terenas who was sitting uneasily. Princess Calia was standing next to the him.

"My Lord. We have returned from Stratholme to deliver some news."

"Rise." Said the king. "Let me hear it."

Jaina spoke. "My King… Prince Arthas did not come home with his men – "

King Terenas closed his eyes, feeling devastated. Calia gasped and clutched her bosom, her frightened gasp echoed through the Imperial chamber.

"My Lord, he's still alive." Said Jaina. "But…"

The king looked at her anxiously.

"…It would seem that…". she frowned and closed her eyes. "… I – I can't."

Uther continued for her. "Arthas, My Lord, according to Cicero, one of Sylvanas's soldiers, he had undergone a demonic transformation."

"It is true, my Lord. I saw him before my very eyes. I noticed his transformation began when he and Sylvanas retrieved a sword." Said Captain Falric. "I saw the sword, sire. It was so otherworldly, every part of it resembled… evil."

Terenas closed his eyes again with a painful expression. His heart began to beat faster. Princess Calia noticed her father was breathing heavily. "Father?" she said.

"My King. The sword's influence on Arthas grows every day, we must – ". Uther noticed something was wrong. King Terenas was reclined limply holding his chest. "Sire, are you alright?"

Calia shook him but he was unresponsive. "Father?"

"By the Light!" Jaina said and ran to his aid.

Uther quickly casted Holy Light on the king but it had no effect. "Falric, go get some help!"

Falric went out immediately alerting everyone in the palace. Within seconds, healers and herbalists flocked to the Imperial Chamber to tend to the King.

.

.

**To be Continued.**

**Damn, I gotta write about Blood Elves now?  
Anyway, I'll do my best to finish this story as fast as I can.**


End file.
